


Happy To Disappoint

by deaded_blush



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: A lot of them - Freeform, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst with a Happy Ending, Come Eating, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Issues, Dark!Tony, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Feminization, M/M, Mafia Boss!Tony, Manipulation, Mirror Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pet Names, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Praise Kink, Protective Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Has A Heart, alternative universe, for peter's sake alright, handjobs, he's mob boss what did i expect, tho with good intentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-09-03 10:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaded_blush/pseuds/deaded_blush
Summary: Adrian Toomes is in quite deep with notorious mob boss Tony Stark. But when Tony comes to collect the debt owed, he's surprised to discover Toomes has an adoptive son. The chance meeting changes the direction of both their lives...OR>>The one where Tony's a mob boss, Adrian's competing for Worst Adoptive Father, Peter's trapped in the middle and everyone has a secret to protect.***FICART





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi darlings!  
> After a long ass time, I'm back and with 4-month delay, I give you this, hope you take it.
> 
> Thanks so much, [Vahisa1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vahisa1975) for betaing and [JayEz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz) for putting me the right direction with this ♥ You two rock ♥
> 
> • _reminder to read the tags with each chapter because they'll be added as the story progresses_ •
> 
> READ AWAY! ^^

"You doubt my loyalty?"

"That's a great question, Adrian..." Tony taps his lips with two fingers and takes a step further into the kitchen.

The man was cooking when they came. This house smells of food, a nice and warm dinner that Adrian won't get a chance to enjoy. He didn't expect a visit from them, Tony's almost sure of it. Adrian would have no reason for it. This doesn't happen often that Tony Stark himself, comes for a little chit-chat. If Adrian knew, he'd have prepared. He would do something...

"You keep looking at Natasha's gun every few seconds. You tense when I step closer and even though you are doing your best to hide how much you're trying to play this cool, your continuous denying simply shows me that you are, in fact, unaware of us already having the proof."

Tony stops in front of the kitchen island that is the only thing standing between him and Adrian. The man can't help it. Although he raises his chin confidently, the nervous gulp is almost audible and his eyes dart to Natasha's holster belt. Even though this was a rather interesting exchange and Tony wouldn't mind playing along for a little longer, he has many other pressing matters to deal with tonight. A sheep that's walked astray from its flock is certainly not at the top of his priorities. 

"You can quit the bullshitting now," Tony's face hardens as he gives Adrian one piercing look. "I know you've been to Hydra Corp."

It’s just a few simple words, really. However, it has the exact desired effect and he can almost see Adrian's facade crumble into pieces. It's impressive how he's trying to save some dignity, standing confident and although surely shivering inside, he shows none of it. Tony, however, wouldn't expect any less from Adrian Toomes. This one won't go down begging for mercy. He won't offer him a deal and he won't even deny it. There is no point in such a thing, the game is over. Tony's not lying and he's not bluffing. They both know it.

And they both know who the winner is.

They're both aware of the truth and Adrian is not someone who would insult Tony's intelligence by trying to lie even after being exposed. The heavy tension disappears in a fog that falls onto the tile floor. Everything’s suddenly so crystal clear. 

Adrian doesn't even try to run. He doesn't try to fight. All three of them are aware that Natasha's bullet will end up in his skull tonight and yet, everything's almost too calm. Adrian's eyes dart to the digital clock of the stove. It's still on, the water slowly boiling.

"Expecting someone?" Tony raises an eyebrow. Immediately, he has Adrian's full attention and the man shakes his head. Perhaps he was just wondering what the time of his death is going to be. Curiosity gets the better of Tony and he looks at the silver watch wrapped around his wrist. It's 8:10 pm.

"Very well..." Tony says eventually and fixes the white scarf hanging from his shoulders, taking a step back. Natasha moves from the darker corner of the room to finally draw her gun and aim at Adrian. His eyes dart to the clock once again and Tony raises his hand to stop her.

"Before we get carried away though," He gives her a look and she lowers her gun, "I'd like to know _why_ you'd sell to them. Why would you want to make new friends, Adrian?"

Tony meets his eyes and for the first time, the man seems truly relaxed. He chuckles with a smirk plastered on his face that's almost shocking, given the circumstances.

"You know me, Tony. I'm a greedy man."

Tony does know. The corner of his lips tug up in a similar smirk as he nods but with far less joy. He can understand that part. After all, it's a trait they both share. It's the trait that has made Toomes one of his best men. But there's one minor difference, one little trait that obviously isn't mutual. 

A sense of family.

"Naturally," Tony nods and Natasha steps forward to raise her gun in one swift motion but she's forced to pull it back just as fast. 

The unexpected sound of the front door opening draws the attention of each one of them. Was Adrian expecting someone after all?

"Sorry I'm late! I just... Well, MJ said we still had time and I said there's no other train coming in twenty minutes but she said-"

It's a boy. In Tony's eyes, just a puppy, really. And he's just as unexpected as Tony and Natasha seem to be unexpected for him – judging by the way he freezes in his tracks the second he walks into the kitchen. 

The schoolbag still hangs from his forearm, yellow jacket with the logo and name of his school taken off halfway. Eyes wide and brown and hair messy, wet with fresh snow. The color of the boy's face says he's been running to catch the train and there's only one question playing on repeat in Tony's mind. _Who, the hell, is this kid?_

"D-didn't know we were having guests... Are they your friends?" He asks Tooms casually and before Tony manages to come up with some sort of conclusion, the boy's shaking Natasha's hand. He's overflowing with politeness.

"Nice to meet you, Natalia. Cool name, by the way. Sounds cooler when you say it tho," He grins and two seconds later, he's offering his hand to Tony.

"Nice to meet you, sir. Peter Parker."

Tony shakes his hand, listens to his voice. He tries to make sense out of this but fails. It's surreal. Toomes' supposed to be alone. He doesn't have any family, he doesn't have any real friends or assistants. Or a lover. He works _alone_. Or did. Before he decided to run off to Hydra, obviously.

"I'm Adrian's adopted son, in case he didn't mention me."

The kid – _Peter_ – shrugs with a few awkward giggles that are completely unreal in this situation and seems to realize he's been shaking Tony's hand for far too long. Finally, he lets go and puts his bag onto the bar stool.

No, Adrian did _not_ mention his adopted son. Adrian has never mentioned ANYONE. 

The kid takes off the yellow jacket and stands on his tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, snatching a bar of chocolate. He heads to get his bag but Adrian wraps his arm around his son's shoulders and squeezes it like a proud father, smiling. Oblivious to the way his kid raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"Peter, this is Mr. Stark. My boss." Adrian tells the kid with that smug grin and Tony's vision is turning red. 

_That – sly – bastard._

He knew his kid was coming, that's why he kept looking at the clock. He knew Tony would never shoot him in front of a teenager. He knew he'd never _kill_ him if there was a child depending on him. Well, he managed to keep this _Parker_ boy a secret for an impressive amount of time. Using him as an ace to pull out of his sleeve at the right moment to save his own skin... Perhaps Tony's gotten a little too ahead of himself as far as the celebrating victory goes.

Peter's eyes go wide when he hears that, instantly focused on Tony and soaking up everything he can about him. Tony can't help the swell of his ego at seeing that almost inappropriate way of staring. With his wealth, his status, power, and charm, it's too easy to impress people. Especially young boys and girls. Still... It feels good.

"Well, w-wow..." Peter murmurs, "It's an honor, sir, I'm P-Peter, uh… I already said that…" The kid bites his lip as if to stop himself from saying more. Tony's eyes follow the movement and linger a second longer than it's necessary.

"Ma'am? Sir? Would you like something to drink?" Peter asks eventually and Tony can't help the small smirk. Of course, that kid is Adrian's _adopted_ son. He actually has manners.

"You've got some brandy in the house, kid?" Tony raises an eyebrow as he asks just to get rid of him for a moment. Natasha refuses by raising her hand dismissively.

"Uh, s-sure? Just a moment."

Peter trots to the dark living room connected to the kitchen like a puppy fetching a toy and Tony takes a step closer to Adrian, eyes narrowed and dangerous. But that son of a bitch knows he's won this round. It radiates from every micro movement of his smug ugly face.

"This quite changes the situation, doesn't it?" Tony's good at hiding his temper but he lets a bit of it slip into the question and bite. Adrian nods.

"It does."

"D-did you want ice in it, sir?"

That small squeaky voice breaks the bubble of tension building around them and Tony looks at the kid standing next to him with the glass of amber liquid. No ice.

"Nah, it's good, kiddo," Tony takes it and faces Adrian again as he empties the entire glass in one go, settling it on the marble surface.

"One last chance. We talk later." Tony says hastily and turns away to head outside, Natasha following without a word.

"Appreciate that, Tony."

He hears Toomes say it, followed by a soft murmur of the boy that somehow crawls his way to Tony's mind for the rest of the evening. The door closes behind them and the cold December night makes his fingertips sting before he puts on the black leather gloves.

"I could arrange an accident." Natasha offers as she opens the door of his limo and slides in after Tony.

"No. The kid's already an orphan, he'd lose this home without that slimy bastard."

"How did you get this far with that soft heart of yours?" Natasha teases with a smirk.

"Watch your tongue, Romanoff." Tony glares at her.

They both know his heart is anything but soft.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo, darlings! _*cough cough*_
> 
> I know it's late Tuesday but it's still Tuesday! And I'm sick so hope you can forgive me xD  
> Anyway, here I present the second part and thank you all, THANK YOU SOOO MUCH, I was honestly blown away by all the positive reactions and the way the first chapter was received ^^ ♥♥♥
> 
> I made ficart for this just in case you wanna check it out [HERE](https://blush-incarnate.tumblr.com/post/180688725280/for-my-au-fanfiction-happy-to-disappoint-with)
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one too! ♥

Peter _knew_ that all hopes for a peaceful evening were out the window the second his train left in front of his nose. Adrain had been VERY vocal on how important it is to get home on time tonight. His curfew was already strict but the way his adoptive father talked made it just sound so much more significant. Although honestly, after coming home about thirty minutes later and finding some people – strangers – Peter's hopes raised a tiny bit.

They were not someone he knew, they were not Adrian's friends.

Adrian didn't even give him a piece of his mind for coming home late – if that's not suspicious then he doesn't know what is. He even _touched_ Peter and showed him off like he was actually proud to have a son? Most importantly, to have PETER for a son? 

Yes. Yes, he did. Or at least he made it look like that. 

Peter simply couldn't help the suspicious glance when Adrian's arm wrapped around his shoulders. The sheer confusion, surprise, maybe even a little bit of fear mixed with a pinch of joy? The prospect of a peaceful evening? He allowed himself to _hope_ it wouldn't go the way he originally expected and turn into a shitshow at some point. 

In addition, having new people in the house was just a nice surprise wrapped in gift paper. It made him feel safer, calmer and more relaxed. He knew Adrian would never do anything stupid in front of other people. But still, he usually took his business out of the house which is why Peter's home alone most of the time – no complaints there, by the way.

So whatever is going on, having someone from his work – his boss on top of that – come over has to be really important. And really really great. Or downright fucking terrible... Peter can't decide which one. Mr. Stark speaks something about " _a second chance_ " given to Adrian so... His guardian screwed something up? He guesses he did. What else would it be?

Either way, if that's the case, Adrian would have been furious and so far he's just looked calm and content and glad, even doing that weird attempt of a smile that always creeps the shit out of Peter. Although, maybe there's no need for it this time. Maybe Mr. Stark gave Adrian some good news. Maybe tonight won't necessarily feature _Nothing But Thieves_ blaring in Peter's headphones. Maybe he'll just spend the evening with his mind contently in the gutter and spam Ned and MJ with texts about Anthony Stark.

It really might happen. So far, Adrian's given out only an impression of someone in a good mood. Peter's confident that-

" _Godfuckingdamn it_ , when I say _'Straight – home – from – school’_ then I don't care MJ this, MJ that. You get home as soon as your class is over."

 _Never mind, then. Thanks for the clarification_. 

Peter wants to slap himself for even confusing Adrian's charade in the presence of others with his actual mood. His eyes move to the side with a disappointed sigh and he fights the urge to roll them. He'd very much like to just get over with this and go to his room.

"You listenin' to me? I – _NEEDED_ – you to be here on time." Adrian growls, taking a step closer and Peter does his best not to show how much he wants to run after his boss and his assistant to drag them back and make them put a muzzle on their dog, which... He regrets instantly because that mental image isn't going away any time soon.

"I said I'm sorry..." It almost physically hurts to even pronounce it.

"I don't need your apology, Benjamin. I need you to do what I say."

Peter's eyes grow wider. He winces. This has stirred the anger that's been silently boiling under the surface and it's only one of the few things that give him enough courage to glare at Adrian.

"I told you not to call me by that name."

Peter seethes and Adrian takes a step back... with a victorious, shit-eating grin. He did it on purpose – no doubts there. It's not that he _prefers_ the name, it's not that he lets it slip or forgets. He does it on purpose. Because he _knows_.

They stare into each other's eyes for a while and as much as Peter would like to win this contest for dominance, eventually, he's the one to look away. Keeping his head down – too tired from the long day in school – he doesn't want to deal with this right now. All he wants is to walk upstairs and slam the door shut.

Silence falls between them for an uncomfortably long moment and it stretches even after Peter lifts his gaze from Adrian's shoes to reluctantly meet his eyes. His guardian just nods toward the stairs with a cold expression that is far less disturbing than Adrian's smile, and Peter takes it gratefully for what it is. In this case – a permission to go to his room.

He walks past Adrian, finally taking his eyes off the man to grab his bag and throw it over his shoulder. He picks up the yellow jacket and lets out a small breath of relief the closer he gets to the wooden staircase. The idea of being alone right now is almost too good to be true. His fingers itch to grab his phone and vent to MJ instead of doing homework but he needs to be a little more patient. 

Peter's four stairs on his way up when the shit hits the fan.

"I'll call ya when the dinner's ready, _Benny_."

Peter freezes on the spot. His fingers squeeze the railing so tightly the skin on his knuckles turns white. Despite everything in his mind telling him not to, he can't help it. He lets the anger get better of him. Slowly turning his head to the side, he looks at his adoptive father and smiles with the faux affection.

"Hope you'll choke on it." 

Peter's overly sweet voice keeps repeating in his head after, his heart pounding with an echo of each word. Gradually it makes him rethink his choice of words, his actions and search for an escape route in the back of his mind.

However, neither of them move. Each one waits for the other to make the first step. To flinch, take a slightly deeper breath or blink, anything that would stir the other into action. As Peter expected, it's Adrian's pride that can't stand being hurt for too long that surges him into motion.

Peter's response is instant. Adrian might be strong and ruthless but Peter's agile, his smaller frame allows him to be faster. He makes it upstairs before his adoptive father and slams the door of his bedroom shut, kicking a chair in the way. His bathroom's only three steps away and his heart flutters frantically in his chest as he hears the loud stomping behind him. Thankfully, he manages to enter the bathroom before Adrian can even get inside.

Peter locks the door and takes two steps backward from them, the back of his legs hitting the bathtub. He sighs with relief and leans down to sit in it, legs hanging off the porcelain edge. 

It’s not the first time this has happened. Which is exactly the reason why he can’t lock his bedroom. The key is gone – god-knows-where – after Adrian's decided Peter's better off without it. It's not like he's _invading_ his room on a regular basis, after all, Peter's home alone most of the time. But he just assumes Adrian's fragile control issues couldn't bear the idea of Peter keeping something a secret from him. He's glad to have at least some privacy in here. Even Adrian wouldn't sink so much to rob him of this key, Peter's sure of it. 

A few minutes of intense cursing and banging on the door later, and there's finally peace.

Adrian gets too tired and annoyed, finally accepting he won't get in and Peter exhales deeply as the relief surges through his body. Adrenaline slowly leaves his frame and he's already planning to snatch something from the fridge after Adrian goes to sleep when a loud noise jolts his body in alarm.

“No…” Peter whines to himself, more annoyed at this point than anything else just to think of his bedroom being turned into a mess.

He hears his books fly around and looks up for strength. They're already pretty screwed up from all the tossing. Then there's a familiar sound of Peter's drawers hitting the wooden floor. He fights the urge to bang his head against the wall.

Of course, he's not trying to yell at Adrian, beg him to stop or promise to never be a brat again. That stuff doesn't work, he's figured it out already four years ago. So all that's left to do is to wait until the door finally slams shut so hard it makes Peter twitch.

He stays in there for at least the next twenty minutes, just chilling in the tub and texting with MJ before he finally walks out and sighs at the mess. This is exactly why he doesn't have any valuable things on display. Because they'd get smashed any time Adrian has one of his moments. The most expensive things here are his phone and his computer and even Adrian knows better than to break those – _he_ bought them for Peter after all.

Peter takes a deep breath and taps the Spotify icon on the screen of his phone. Cleaning up the mess after your dickhead father is always more pleasant with a bit of music.

///

" _Just saying something a bit more challenging wouldn't hurt, you know what I mean._ " 

MJ's voice sounds awfully artificial through the broken speaker of his phone.

"You're literally the only person I know that'd complain cause homework's too easy," Peter shakes his head with a chuckle. The paper of his book where he rests his cheek is soft against his skin and he sighs, sprawled over the floor of his bedroom.

" _It's not too easy, it's for noobs. Besides, I'm the only person you know._ "

" _She got you there._ " Ned contributes to the group call and Peter frowns at his phone.

"Right genius. Cause you're not a person, huh?"

" _Nah, I'm the lord of darkness and I've sold my soul to the-_ "

" _I'll end this call faster than I turned off Netflix's version of Death Note if you finish that sentence._ "

Peter laughs; he can almost see the face MJ's making. Regardless, Ned doesn't finish it. Peter rolls off his stomach to reach for his bag and drags it closer. The homework's done and he doesn't need to study for tomorrow. Just like MJ pointed out, it's been too easy and he doesn't like what that fact implies.

It's a reminder that exams are over, Christmas break is getting close and he doesn't really want to think about staying home for almost three weeks with Adrian. No school to save him. 

He's already been playing with some of his options, like spending most of the time in the library, coffee shop or hanging out with MJ and Ned as much as possible. Preferably, all of it together. But considering he needs to ask permission to get out, the chances of gaining that relief are thin. Even thinner after that number he pulled off tonight.

Perhaps he could find a part-time job?

Would Adrian still be angry about it? It doesn't really matter, Peter's sure his father would toughen his curfew just to be an extra dick. Peter should probably start supplying his room with food so he doesn't have to leave it during those three weeks at all. But the idea of not seeing his friends for that long hurts too much and honestly, he would face bigger monsters than Adrian Toomes to see MJ and Ned.

The sound of a car pulling onto the road outside breaks the chain of his thoughts.

" _Ohshit-ohshit-ohshit!_ " He tries not to sound too excited, just in case it's not what he thinks it is. 

Grabbing his phone while his friends yell questions, Peter runs to the window seat of his room. He snatches a small remote and turn the color of the tiny lights hanging around the curtains from bright yellow to darkest red just to see better and when Adrian's car disappears at the end of the dark street, his smile grows.

"He's out!" Peter cheers and shoves the phone in his pocket, yanking the door of his bedroom open.

" _Was about fucking time,_ " MJ comments from the other side of the line but Peter's too ecstatic to care. He takes the stairs by two and skips the last three, jumping on the floor and hurrying to the kitchen.

They must hear the sound of the fridge opening because soon after, Ned asks, " _Did he leave you anything?_ "

Peter searches through the fridge and gets some peanut butter, ham and cheese. He opens the shelf next to it and finds half of the sandwich bread. And really, that's all he needs.

"No, not from the dinner. BUT, the fridge is ready for harvest." Peter grins and keeps talking to his friends while he makes himself a well-deserved dinner.

The half-empty jar of Nutella is a welcomed bonus and Peter decides his room is surely a more adequate place to store such a treasure than the kitchen. Adrian's not gonna miss it.

" _So what now?_ " Ned asks and MJ grunts.

" _Now he's not gonna shut up about Stark for the rest of the night._ "

And she's absolutely right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading dears! ♥  
> Leave kudos and comments if you feel like it, I really appreciate all of it and it's always a nice boost in motivation ;3
> 
> The third chapter next Tuesday! Have all a wonderful day/night, infinite love to y'all! ♥♥♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sweethearts! ♥
> 
> First, thanks so much for all the support after chapter 2, your comments are the best and help me keep excited about this fanfic ^^ Really love y'all ♥♥♥ Second, a lot of you asked why Adrian adopted Peter so just to let anyone who wonders know, it will be explained, don't you worry ^^
> 
> It seems chapters will be getting gradually longer from this point but that's only good, right? ^^  
> PS: Fanart I linked to this is actually from this chapter.
> 
> **I hope you guys enjoy and happy reading! ^^**

"Tony, Adrian's here to see you." 

Pepper must find the face he makes highly amusing, judging by the suppressed smirk he knows so well. Using the privilege not many people can take for granted, she invites herself into the office.

"Didn't you want to talk to him?"

Her smile feels like the only bright ray in the darkness of this room. Tony leans against the leather of his chair, leaving the fountain pen on the desk and rubs his eyes. 

"Pep... There's a difference between when you _want_ to talk to someone and when you **need** to." He explains, not even trying to hide the frustration in those words.

Pepper has seen him in a worse state than this. He doesn't need to keep up the image in front of her out of all people. However, he thought the same thing about a few traitorous rats before... 

_No. Don’t even think Pepper would-_

If he becomes paranoid on top of everything, he can very well just throw in the towel.

Pepper taps the folder in her hands with rounded nails and Tony wonders if she's wearing some crazy fluorescent nail polish or his eyes are just really tired. This time she lets the smirk show and walks to his desk. The lack of a decent light source makes her lipstick even darker. 

It doesn't affect him the same way it used to ten years ago.

"Okay…? Then I could say you're busy. Let him wait for 30 – 40 minutes, then apologize and let him in. Sounds good?"

Tony looks up to meet the mischievous spark in her eyes. She used to be so sweet before all of this. He still thanks whatever power in the universe that led her to him. Tony could hardly wish for a more talented person.

"Look at you, Potts. _SO_ evil," He grins.

Pepper shrugs with a smug smile that borders with narcissistic and raises her chin up proudly. Placing the folder down, she tugs on the silver string attached to Tony's lamp sitting in the corner of his desk. "How can you even read like this," She shakes her head with a disapproving sigh. 

It's Tony's turn to shrug.

Pepper doesn't leave even after a good amount of silence which means there's still something to be said. Tony hopes it's the business and not a personal-

"There's a lot on your mind lately..." She says with a neutral voice, rather stating her observation than asking. Tony doesn't answer. He taps the folder a few times, just like she did before. 

He’s not in the mood to actually open it. Whatever it is, it can wait till tomorrow.

"Okay then... I'll let him know you're busy."

Tony nods and tugs on the silver string. The light's too irritating at the moment. It distracts him from the thoughts that just won’t settle for some reason. They are impossible to sort out – a restless surface.

Probably understandable for someone in his position. 

Tony thought he knew Adrian Toomes. After all, the guy’s been standing by his side when Obadiah got the wrong impression he'd be better at leading the family. He's been with him when Rogers – so eagerly – ran off to fuck Russians.

Important people kept leaving and disappearing and the close circle of those who Tony _truly_ knew at their core was becoming thinner. Growing fragile from the inside. Not only once, he wondered who would stab him in the back first, if Pepper or Adrian. The past experiences have taught him it was going to happen. It was almost inevitable course of how the life worked. He was preparing, he was expecting it at some point.

Quite frankly, he's always preferred the second option over the first. Perhaps because he's never allowed Adrian to truly become his _friend_. And perhaps because Pepper's position in this company was irreplaceable. Besides, for the sake of everything they've been through in the past, he'd like to stay on friendly terms with her. But eventually, someone is going to get him.

You don't die of old age when you run this kind of business.

"Pep?" 

She stops on her way out, turning around to give an expectant glance. 

Her eyes are kinder than he deserves them to be.

"Did you know Adrian has an adopted son?"

"Wait, what?"

Tony smirks. No, obviously she didn't. No one knew. 

He was sure as hell the man didn't have a kid when they first met. How do you hide something like adoption from Tony Stark when you're his top henchman? The question itself isn't that important anymore, it shouldn't matter. It shouldn't be what Tony wants to know the most. He's sure that _now_ Pepper understands why he didn't send Toomes to the bottom of a lake tonight. From the way her face shifts, she had to put the pieces together too.

"So that's why-"

"Yes."

"A kid?"

"A teenager. Just a little no one. Polite, a bit shy... Nothing too impressive." Tony shrugs, "But sure as hell, the kid had a good timing. Natalia was ready to pull the trigger." He muses, stroking his beard between his index finger and a thumb. 

He'll need to trim it tomorrow.

"So that option is off the table."

Tony nods. 

She gives him one more encouraging smile and grabs the handle of the door.

"And Pep?"

"Yes?"

Tony thinks back to the yellow jacket. He turns on the light again, opens the folder and pretends to actually read it.

"Get me all the information you can on Peter Parker. Student of the Midtown School of Science and Technology."

With a nod, Pepper finally leaves him to his solitude - which is fine. More than fine since his mind clearly decides the only thing he's allowed to think of is the yellow color of Peter Parker's jacket.

Perhaps there was something impressive about the boy after all...

* * *

"Aaand?" Ned's face lights up with a hopeful spark as if Peter's expression wasn't enough of an answer. MJ reads it better. Or perhaps MJ's just a realist. Arms crossed over her chest, she nudges Ned to calm down.

"He didn't get the job," She states flatly and Ned's expression drops in confusion. Peter confirms by nodding.

Before he can even finish his long-suffering sigh, a woman runs into him – too busy talking on her phone and trying to catch a cab – to pay attention to her surroundings. The impact forces Peter to drop his papers onto the wet pavement. 

_Can today get any worse?_

It _can_ – he knows that of course. Adrian, for example, always finds some creative way to make it that way. Although sometimes, reminding himself how much worse it could be doesn't make him magically forget all his _”banal”_ problems.

"Well, you still have the bookstore and-" Ned offers as he bends down to help Peter pick up the papers and the three of them scoop closer together to avoid being in the way of all the people passing by.

"Nah..." Peter shakes his head, gratefully taking the papers from Ned who gives him a quizzical look, "They all want full time or weekdays."

"Yeah, it's hopeless," MJ confirms.

"I can't do that with school."

"You should just give up," MJ says again and Peter ignores her poker-face, focusing on Ned instead. He’s not done justifying his choices.

"Maybe it's better, maybe it'd be too much for me anyway."

"If you don't try, you don't fail. Smart." MJ comments.

"And why would I waste my time there when I can spend it on more important stuff?"

"Like searching for free CockyBoys vid-"

"Can you quit it, Michelle?" Peter hisses exasperatedly, "Not in the mood for that right now."

She lifts her hands to show she means no harm, eyeing him up and down like she's judging if he has the right to be irritated or not.

"Okay, geez…”

Peter sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. He doesn't want to go home just yet. It's too early.

He hasn't met Adrian since yesterday night. His father was asleep when Peter went to school and after looking at his phone, he knows it's too early for Adrian to go to work. At least four more hours before he can head home. And sure he could just try to waltz home as if nothing happened but A LOT can go wrong in four hours.

"Hey, not to be dramatic but we're about to die of hypothermia over here." Michelle's voice is salty enough to make Peter snap back to reality. Both her and Ned are quivering. He told them to wait somewhere warm. They insisted to stay in front of the store.

"Y-yeah sorry... Let's, uh... Let's just go-" Peter takes a step forward – and freezes. " _Oh – my – Lord – in heaven._ "

It's _him_. And there is absolutely no way to _not_ freak out.

A perfectly tailored suit under the long black coat. The same white scarf wrapped around his neck and hanging off his shoulders along the sides of the opened coat. He's not hiding his hands in the pockets. Peter can see the black leather gloves and a black fedora hat with a white stripe around it. 

It's a sight worthy of a fashion magazine and Peter allows himself to stare. Mr. Stark’s on the other side of the street anyway and even though he's wearing Lennon sunglasses – in December – Peter doesn't need to see his eyes to know it's him.

"What's going on?" MJ frowns.

"It's him." Peters’ not proud of the squeak he makes and Ned's instantly invested.

"Who?"

"Him."

"Which one?!"

"HIM."

"Who-"

"The guy in the hat, dammit, you want me to point at him?" Peter groans nervously and it's Michelle's turn to shine.

"Oh **THAT** guy?"

And with that, Peter's absolutely and entirely ready to pass out – please someone play _Whatcha' Say_ – because Michelle just pointed at him. 

She – _POINTED_ – at the boss of Peter's adoptive father and the owner of Stark Industries – the man Peter knows NOTHING about. And he noticed. 

Mr. Stark takes the crosswalk and walks to the other side, most definitely walking towards them. Peter can't see where he's looking through the black glasses but his head's turned their direction as he gets closer and closer.

Peter undoubtedly wants to die.

"MICHELLE!" He seethes through gritted teeth, squirming on the spot and she just gives him that _trademark-unphased-MJ_ look. Ned seems to empathize with Peter too strongly to say a word.

"Hey, I was just checking if it’s the right guy. No biggie." She shrugs and Peter replies with some muffled inhuman noises.

"Why act like this? Cause he noticed you?" She asks with a faux innocence and then _waves_ – at – Tony Stark. 

The man just smirks… And keeps walking.

Peter grabs her hand to pull it down, "For real?!" He squeaks and doesn't find it even a half as amusing as Michelle obviously does.

"It's not funny, MJ," Ned tries quietly – _SO_ helpful.

"Mr. Parker and his little gang, huh?"

His voice's nothing like it was yesterday. It's more casual. It's _warm_ and amicable. Peter would think the man may even be glad to see him if he wasn't so dumbstruck by the fact he remembers his name in the first place.

While Ned just stares, Peter turns away from Michelle's victorious smirk to face Mr. Stark... And three other guys in suits standing nearby that he didn't notice before. They don't seem to be present so he just decides to ignore them for now. He's too busy with the internal screaming anyway. The height difference is more noticeable like this. It's not huge but he needs to raise his chin a little to meet Mr. Stark's eyes – or, well – the glasses. They hide his eyes and Peter can't tell what exactly he's looking at. 

It's quite unfair. Not really helping the uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest. He's totally _NOT_ dying of embarrassment right now. 

_Thank you, Michelle. GOD BLESS YOU._

"H-hello, Mr. Stark? Wha-what are you up to?" Peter likes to think the forced smile he musters would get him an academic award.

Mr. Stark lowers his sunglasses to show the amusement in his eyes. He’s smirking.

"What am _**I** up to_?"

The need to be smitten is strong with Peter.

"Well, your companions literally waved at me which puts me under an impression you wanted to talk to me?"

"Y-yeah... Uh, a-about that... Th-that was very _rude_ ," Peter shoots Michelle a murderous look.

Mr. Stark simply laughs briefly and raises his hand in reassurance, "It's quite alright."

Peter feels his cheeks getting warm. Mr. Stark's completely different than he was yesterday... And yet there's the same untouchable energy surrounding him that Peter can't really name.

" _So_!" The man says friskily and looks at the three of them, "What are **you** up to?" He smiles and Peter's not sure if he's taking too long to react or he's just too busy trying to see the eyes behind the black glasses. Either way, Michelle takes over... _again_.

"Peter was just giving up on finding a job." 

She should be arrested for how casually she delivers those words. Meanwhile, Peter debates whether turning off notifications on her Messenger would be enough of a revenge.

"Awww," Mr. Stark's words melt into a sympathetic smile, his eyes on Peter again. 

Yup, someone smite him _now_.

"I'm sure he wasn't. He was just waiting for the right opportunity, isn't that so, Mr. Parker?" The older man offers warmly and Peter's not the only one who didn't expect that kind of response. Michelle's quiet for now too and it DOES feel good to see her intense effort to embarrass him backfire.

"Y-yeah... I guess?" Peter rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

His fingers feel numb with cold.

"Perhaps rudely pointing at other people wasn't such a bad idea after all, huh?" Mr. Stark adds nonchalantly and before anyone can try to wrap their heads about what's happening, the man's taking out a business card. The movement itself is so graceful and trained it looks like a magic trick. He holds it out between his index and middle finger and waits – for Peter – to take it.

"Anyway, I'm afraid I have pressing matters to take care of for now. Gentlemen, lady?" He nods to them with an amused smile and he's gone.

Just like that.

The three men follow behind, not even giving them a glance. Peter holds his business card in the freezing hand and stares after Mr. Stark. The long black coat sways behind him with the cold winter air. The way his body moves is addictive to watch and Peter's not entirely sure what to think but he's busy trying to decode _why_ he wishes that horrible, awkward conversation never ended.

"Ooo-kay?" MJ waves her hand in front of Peter's face.

"What is it?" Ned looks over Peter's shoulder eagerly.

It's the first time he actually looks at the card. White, thick paper with rich texture. Luxurious. Bold black letters printed in the middle gives him a number. "A phone number?"

Peter's phone rings two seconds later, dragging him down from his awe-heights. He lets MJ snatch the business card from him for inspection and looks at the screen of his phone. It's Adrian. Peter rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to whine.

"This is why we can't have nice things," He sighs and picks up. "Yes?" 

He needs to remind himself to stay calm. However, this doesn't seem to be about yesterday night after all.

" _Get home, you've got mail._ "

Peter's eyebrows knit intensively, "Mail...? From who?"

It's an obvious question. Who on Earth would send something to _him_? Besides, he's pretty sure he hasn't ordered anything lately.

" _Stark Industries._

Peter blinks. Once – twice. He tries to process it and fails. It makes him wonders if meeting Mr. Stark just moments ago wasn't just a lucky coincidence after all. 

One thing's for sure. He's never promised Adrian to be home that quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy, hoped you enjoyed this less angsty one and major kudos to y'all for reading! ♥ Hope to see you here next Tuesday again, we're slowly but surely getting to that sweet-sweet Starker ~~spot~~ point!
> 
> Don't forget to leave the comments and kudos, I love talking to you guys, you're honestly the best ♥♥♥
> 
> *love and hugs* Hope y'all had a great day/night! ♥


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sweethearts! Happy to see you again after the week and I hope you enjoy this long chapter. I had to merge two chapters into one because... reasons.
> 
> I'll be posting two chapters during the Christmas week as a gift so hope you'll like that too ^^
> 
> Please enjoy and accept the thirst! ♥

Peter doesn't get it the first time he reads the letter. Or maybe he does but it’s too surreal for his brain to accept. He goes through it over and over for so long that the light from the living room window becomes darker and not enough. The letter from Stark Industries in both hands, legs crossed under him. He doesn't even mind Adrian's watching him from the opposite couch.

Only when his father turns on the lamp sitting next to the armchair, Peter looks up to meet his eyes. The man's browsing through his phone with one hand, instant noodles wrapped around his fork in another and the bowl rests in his lap. He's not watching him, Peter should quit being so paranoid all the time. 

As if hearing what he thinks, Adrian looks up and meets Peter’s eyes. He dodges it instantly, going back to re-reading the letter for the tenth time. 

Fancy words, the structure of the sentences too formal... It's distracting. It makes him anxious.

Why can't these people just say things the way they are? Something like " _Mr. Parker, we'd like to offer you a job as an assistant, would you like that – yes or no – bye._ " It's as simple as that and- 

Oh. That's it. They're offering him a job.

Peter’s brain finally accepts the reality, allowing the words to finally make sense. Suddenly, it screams on a bright paper to the point it's almost intimidating. Wait, scratch that, it _IS_ intimidating. This is Stark Industries. A goddamn grocery store didn't want to hire him and now he's being offered the assistant of _Anthony Stark?_

Peter doesn't even try to pretend his heart isn't racing as he blinks at the phone number in the bottom corner of the paper. He should call them. Because he accepts, right?

_RIGHT?!_

_Why_ and _how_ this happened are to be the obvious questions in this scenario but he's got a bad feeling he knows already. Is this Adrian's fault? Did he talk to Mr. Stark? Well, if... if that's true, should he... Should he thank him? Damn, he should.

Peter’s not hyped to owe Adrian since he already owes him _everything_.

"Figured anything out yet?"

Peter looks up so fast it makes his head spin. Adrian's voice lacks the mockery. It sounds rather like genuine interest. His phone lies on the glass coffee table now, a porcelain bowl in his hand as he slurps the noodles from his fork.

"They… They offered me a job." The obvious confusion in his own voice makes Peter cringe.

Adrian replies with an impressed look. Peter's not sure if today is some kind of dream.

"Well, you're gonna accept that, ain't you?" His father speaks while chewing, making it hard to understand but Peter decodes it a few seconds later.

"I... I guess?"

"Whaddaya mean _I guess_? 'Course you gonna. You wanted a job, right?"

"Y-yeah but-"

"Does it interfere with your school?"

"No..."

"Is the schedule too much?"

"Guess not...?"

"Got no balls to handle it then?"

Peter frowns. If this is some sort of reverse psychology like MJ tried on him earlier today, it works now. He looks down at the phone number and Stark Industries logo one more time. His voice is filled with the stubborn determination when he speaks.

"I _CAN_ handle it."

Adrian nods, not impressed but not disappointed either. It's like he didn't expect anything else. Even if Peter doesn't like the sound of it, the truth is this man already knows him well enough.

"Nice. So you have the guts and the opportunity – you grab it. It's gonna be better than just being locked up in your room all the goddamn time." 

Adrian stands up, taking the bowl to the open kitchen. 

Peter would love to remind him he wouldn't spend 95% of his time in his room if Adrian wasn't competing for The Worst Father award but he lets it go for now. Besides... It could always be worse, right? It could be just Peter and NO father at all. Just an orphanage and social workers.

Like it or not, it's thanks to Adrian that he doesn't need to worry about those things. And most likely, thanks to Adrian, now he has an “ _opportunity”._ Oh. So that's why Mr. Stark said that. He already knew the letter was waiting for him at home. Why did he give him the phone number then?

Peter looks at the paper again. It's right there. The number he's supposed to call. He reaches in the pocket of his jeans, taking out the business card that's already crumpled at the corners. The bold letters make him remember the way Mr. Stark held it out for him. The way the left corner of his lips tugged up when Peter accepted... He never wants to forget those small details.

With a small dreamy sigh, Peter compares the two numbers. The difference is painfully obvious. They're not the same. But the card from Mr. Stark doesn't carry any other writing, it's blank on the other side and there aren't any hidden grey letters or tiny text. 

Peter's TRIED to find them. He couldn't stop inspecting the card the whole way home.

"Hey, I gotta go soon so-" Adrian calls from the kitchen, "You gonna call them or what?"

The question catches Peter off guard. He doesn't feel prepared but he supposes he's just making a big deal out of nothing. He'd be stupid to refuse this offer. Anything that would keep him away from home during vacation sounds like a dream. Anything that would keep him around Mr. Stark sounds like a dream too… A wet one.

So he’s going to call, yes. Then what exactly is he waiting for?

"Benjamin," Adrian says it to get a response since Peter's too lost in his thoughts. 

It _works_. Better than anything, in fact. Peter glares at the man and instantly picks up his phone. He should thank the guy for the reminder of why he wants to get away. It's not the most pleasant kind of motivation but it's motivation regardless.

Peter dials the number from the SI letter, making a mental note to breathe slower. He doesn't want to leave a bad impression but as he listens to the continuous holding tune, his anger melts into anxiety. Eventually, it leaves him in the voicemail and he hangs up.

Peter shoots Adrian a glare, "They're not picking up."

His father’s unphased and points at the clock on the stove. "Too late for those up there to work," He informs with a shrug and grabs his bag, putting it over his shoulder, "You call them tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah..." Peter looks away, pouting but he can't shake the feeling like he's being a dick for not saying thank you. 

This isn't just some job every other student could get, this is something only Adrian's connections allowed him to achieve. And that's how he got it – without even _trying_ to achieve this. Now both father and son will work for the same man.

Anthony Edward Stark.

There isn't much the public – or Peter – knows about him, except that he's the owner of Stark Industries and very good at keeping his private life a secret. He doesn't show up in public that often and a rumor runs that his parents were from Italy. It's not confirmed though. 

That's pretty much everything. 

Peter's eyes travel to the business card and he brushes his fingertip over it. He's never felt a texture like that before. It fills his head with images of the dark eyes looking at him from behind the black circles of glass. It fills his head with not-so-innocent kind of fantasies.

When he saw Mr. Stark for the first time, he was dumbstruck by how handsome the man is. But it's not only his look. It's also that… that _something_ surrounding him that Peter can’t really name. He thought he was never going to see Mr. Stark again after that night when he left but then today happened. 

If there ever was a chance to forget that man, Peter has passed it.

With a sigh, he lets himself fall against the cushions, sprawled over the entire couch. Anthony's presence… It’s just so addicting. Of course, Peter's going to accept the job. Hell, the more he thinks about it, the more frustrated he is that he couldn't call right now. He wants it, he wants to be around Mr. Stark, he wants to talk to him, to be noticed, he wants… _his attention_.

The sound of the front door closing tells him Adrian's gone. Peter didn't get a chance to thank him. He could blame it on having his mind too deep in the gutter but he admits… He did it on purpose. Just thinking about being called _Benjamin_ makes his chest tighter and he huffs. 

Adrian can go to hell.

Peter tries to call three more times before groaning and tossing his phone to the corner of the couch. The letter follows right after.

He should just stop thinking about it. He can try tomorrow again... Why does he feel like if he doesn't get it right now, it’s not going to happen?

_Too good to be true. Too good to be true…_

An exasperated sigh fills the room. He should let Michelle and Ned know at least... No. Not Michelle. He's determined to ignore her for the rest of the evening. Although... If she didn't act like a moron, he wouldn't hold that fancy business card in his hand right now. 

Peter looks at it again, brushing his thumb over the bold numbers and exhales determinedly. It's time to find out what this is about. And if it's not what he thinks-slash-hopes it is, he'll just say he has the wrong number.

And so, trying not to think about it too much, Peter simply enters the digits and presses the green button. There's barely any waiting before his call is answered.

_"Anthony Stark."_ Mr. Stark's voice is like dark velvet and Peter needs to bite his lip for thinking about it that way.

And THEN... 

And then he panics. 

Of course, he does. He didn’t have time to prepare mentally, he didn't have time to come up with something smart to say… What should he say? Play it cool, he gotta play it cool. Explain the situation, thank him for the opportunity, get the details then hang up – easy.

"H-hi." Peter grins and he should probably say something, he _SHOULD_ totally say something, except he's not saying anything and feels his face getting red. 

Hanging up and dying seem like legit options right now.

_"Oh, Mister Parker. Isn't that right?"_ The amicable shift in the other man's voice is audible. _"I understand you had time to consider my offer?"_

_MY_ offer, Peter thinks. Not Stark Industries' offer. Mr. Stark's offer.

Shit.

Just – go – smooth – Peter.

"Yes! Thank you so much, I don't know why you'd think of me, there are so many, much-much-much more qualified people to do something like that," – yeah, degrade yourself, always helps to get a job – "BUT if it's making coffee and writing down appointments and remembering names like in the movies,” – oh, Christ, he's babbling – “I can do that-- I-I mean ANYTHING you need, I'll learn it, y-yes, thank you, sir... For the... Op-opportunity..."

At this point, Peter sits in the corner of the couch, facepalming intensively. He doesn't need to look to know how red he is. That was fucking smooth. That was a prime example of smooth.

Fuck.

_"The pleasure's mine, kid._ "

Peter takes a deep breath. If the man didn't hang up after THAT kind of ramble, then he must be serious about this after all.

"Y-yeah, thank you... Um... I-I'm sorry to bother you directly, I tried to call to the other number but no one picked up..."

_"Ah, yes. The personnel department doesn't work this late."_

"And you do?" Peter asks for no particular reason and hears a small chuckle on the other side of the line. It does _things_ to him.

_"No kid, this is my private number."_

"Oh..."

_OH_. 

Peter bites his lip. He doesn't know what exactly this means but he's sure having Mr. Stark's _private_ number gives him butterflies. He grins so stupidly… It's hard to breathe for entirely different reasons than what he's used to.

" _So, what are you up to, Peter?_ "

_I like when you call me Peter_ – is what Peter doesn't say.

"N-nothing really?" 

Ugh, try to be more interesting, you don't want to give one-word answers to THIS man.

"Uh, h-homework and I should study for a while..."

_"Tomorrow's Saturday, kiddo._ "

"Riiight... Dunno then, playing a game?" 

Or think about how your beard would feel against-

“ _Do you like to play, Peter? All by yourself?_ "

Peter shrugs even though Mr. Stark can't see him and unfolds his legs, leaning into cushions. The stress has washed away now completely, it's so easy to just relax and _talk_... But he's still a bit nervous – a good kind of nervous.

"No, with friends… Or just some multiplayer? Um, nothing that includes physical activities. I've always been pretty bad in sports, to be honest." He giggles awkwardly.

" _I'm sure we could do something about that._ " There's a strange pause that Peter doesn't quite understand but Mr. Stark goes on. 

" _Anyway, how about you meet me tomorrow and we can work out the details? Unless you've got plans with your little gang already?_ " Mr. Stark chuckles but Peter's too busy assuring him he can be there anytime to appreciate the joke.

" _See you at 3, Peter._ "

"Y-yeah, see you, Mr. Stark."

The man hangs up but Peter's still holding the phone against his ear. 

He doesn't want to know what kind of dumb expression's on his face but he wouldn't care even if Adrian was right there. He jumps up and kicks the air before tossing himself onto the couch again. He just needs to release the excessive hype. The ceiling seems to be full of stars all of a sudden.

Peter replays the conversation in his mind over and over, trying to recall the sound of Mr. Stark's voice as precisely as he possibly can. Analyzing everything that's been said, he still misses that one part. 

It's twenty minutes later when the pieces finally click together and his heart stops for a brief moment.

_Was Mr. Stark actually-lowkey-flirting-with-him-and-hE-DIDN'T-GET-IT?!_. 

The following rush of embarrassment is enough to make him drop dead but a small moan that escapes his throat when the words gain the new meaning is enough of a surprise to sober him up. Even if he's wrong, even if it's just some kind of fantasy he didn't realize he enjoys – which is a lie, his Pornhub history would tell him otherwise – even if it's just him imagining things... The idea of someone else _wanting_ HIM in real life – not just in his fantasies – is a completely new but incredibly arousing concept.

Peter jumps up, searching for his phone fiercely and dropping it three times in the process. As soon as it's stable in his hands, he hits the video chat icon multiple times. He _SO_ needs to tell MJ about this.

***

This is an emergency. 

Peter's thought he owns at least SOME kind of formal clothes but… Right now, nothing seems formal enough. At least not enough for SI. He’s trying to pick _something-anything_ for an unhealthy amount of time but that's a hard thing to do when he changes his mind about each outfit after ten minutes of wearing it.

It's not good enough, he’s not good enough and this whole thing is beyond frustrating. There – just – isn't – enough – clothes – to – chose – from. Ned and MJ aren't really helpful either, each of them voting for different combinations and Peter debates whether he should just cancel the appointment. He can’t show up in an oversized hoodie and the cheap imitation of Converse.

Stark Industries is a big deal, alright? It's something his classmates would kill for – hell, _anyone_ would. And as Mr. Stark's personal assistant? Yeah, Peter's not about to take this first meeting lightly, even if the opportunity more or less fell in his lap thanks to his father. Maybe he got it easy but he'll work tirelessly, he'll prove to Mr. Stark it wasn't a wrong choice, he'll show him he deserves the attention that-

Peter's phone buzzes and it takes him a moment to remember where he'd left it. He rushes to the bathroom and manages to catch it right before it falls off the sink edge. It's an unknown number – it's his cru-- uh, potential boss.

Peter feels his insides shift unpleasantly just thinking that he's missed the appointment, _interview–thingy–whatever_. The time is the prime concern now but it's only 12:55 pm when he checks. He's still got some time before he needs to leave AND make a final decision on what to wear.

Inhale – exhale. 

Accept the call.

"H-hello?"

" _Mr. Parker! Hope I'm not interrupting anything,"_ Mr. Stark's voice is warm as always, just as it has been ever since they've met on the street and it soothes Peter's shaking nerves. 

The way this older man who has all the right to be smug and cocky talks to him like Peter's almost his... _equal_ never fails to amaze him.

"N-no, no, I'm-I'm good, it's good, um... Yeah... Is-is there anything you need?... Sir?"

_"Oh yes, there is... I know this is last-minute but my schedule's changed. Is it possible you could come sooner today?"_

Maybe it's just Peter's wishful thinking but there's a certain tint in the older man's voice that gives out that he _expects_ Peter to say yes. But Peter's not mentally prepared for this. Not for going sooner, not for facing _this_ – whatever it's going to be – before he was supposed to-

"Y-yeah, yeah, sure! Of course! When?"

He just can't deny.

_"Right now."_

Peter bites his lip, leaning on one leg. Feet closely pressed together, he stares at his orange socks and the best jeans he could find although he's not sure about them. He's not sure about the black t-shirt with two scattered letters on the front, he's not sure about the dark blue dress jacket that wasn't bought for him so it hangs on his shoulders a bit. And he's not sure about his hair, combed to the side with a small amount of hair wax. 

There isn't a thing in the goddamn world he'd be sure about at the moment.

However, the luxury of taking his sweet time with these decisions has just been snatched from his hands.

"Yes. No problem, sir. I'll be right there!"

_"Excellent. I'll see you in a bit... Peter._ " That's all Mr. Stark says before the call is over and he doesn't really need to say more. The way Peter's name sounds on his lips is enough to become a melody that lures Peter. He _wants_ to follow despite all the obstacles.

"Goddamn it..." Peter whimpers quietly, chewing on his lip as he looks in the mirror for the hundredth time.

He unbuttons the jacket, hoping it would look more casual this way, hoping it'd look like it's _supposed to_ hang on him and reluctantly leaves to put on his sneakers. He's as presentable as he can get given the circumstances and he replays those words in his head like a mantra the whole way to the Stark Industries.

***

Peter's passed by Stark Tower many times. But despite the fact his father works for Mr. Stark, he's never been inside. He's not even sure what _exactly_ Adrian does for Mr. Stark.

To say the building is huge would be a horrible understatement. He realizes just _how_ horrible as soon as he gets to the elevator and sees the buttons for the lower levels of the Tower. It's a facility, the headquarters of an empire Mr. Stark has built and the billionaire's home. There's no button that would take him up to the penthouse but he knows it's there.

The sight that's offered to him when the glass elevator goes up is a very welcomed distraction. Peter's never been afraid of heights and he can't help pressing against the wall with a breathless smile. People gradually look smaller and smaller as he passes the many opened floors with offices, cafeterias, and break rooms. It's glass and white marble mostly. With a geometric fountain here and there and plants, balancing everything with a more organic look.

Still, Peter can't help the feeling of being small, even while he's technically above everyone else. The employees and customers, they're all dressed in formal clothes – expensive looking and perfect as if there was some kind of policy that makes sure everyone is worthy of a photo shoot in a magazine all the time. 

Peter doesn't fit in here. But he likes to believe it's the performance that matters, not the looks.

"Hello, you must be Peter, right?" 

A tall redhead stands right in front of the elevator when it opens and snaps Peter back to reality. He knows exactly who she is. It's showtime for him and... she's pretty much unconsciously refuting his theory about the insignificance of the appearances.

_Damn, she looks good._

"Y-yes! I'm Pet- That's me," He extends his hand with the best smile he can possibly muster.

She doesn't take it. Instead, she saves his arm from being squished between the elevator door with a warm laugh, pushing the door open again. YES, he's the genius who just kept standing in the elevator. 

Peter wonders if the voice of self-doubt can get any louder at this moment.

"I'm Pepper Potts, CEO of SI. Nice to meet you," She smiles as he finally gets out of the elevator and Peter finds her handshake is firmer than he’d expect.

"I'll take you to Mr. Stark, just follow me."

Peter does. He follows her through the spacious hallway toward another elevator and can't help himself... He _stares_ at her. It's Pepper Potts after all, _she's_ the public face of Stark Industries, not Mr. Stark. He's seen her on TV just two days ago. She's really great and her speech at TED Talk was really inspirational but he imagined she'd be more... Strict? Maybe she just feels sorry for that pitiful first impression Peter's given.

They take the elevator that opens using her card that she holds in front of the scan panel. The silence isn't awkward, thanks to the rather big model of a Stark tablet Ms. Potts holds in her hand, tapping the screen. She seems too immersed in whatever it is she's doing so Peter doesn't feel bad for being ignored. Actually, he's _grateful_ for that. 

Less talking means fewer chances to embarrass himself.

Soon they exit the elevator and she takes him to the large wooden door at the end of the hallway that doesn't fit the overall design of the building at all. The walls are made of tall floor-to-ceiling windows and the view is nothing but mind-blowing. Peter wishes he had more time to look, he's never been this high before-

"Ready?" She smiles.

"Yeah… Yes!" Oh, Christ, can he get any louder?

Ms. Potts' fails at hiding her amusement – if she even tried – and knocks on the door but doesn't wait for an answer. She peeks in.

"The boy's here, Tony."

Peter's heart is seriously trying to break free from his ribcage.

Ms. Potts closes the door and wishes him good luck. She gestures towards the entrance and it's probably only for the best she keeps staring at him. At least he's forced to go in. Otherwise, he'd stand in front of the door, re-thinking his life choices for who-knows how long.

Peter bites his lip, grabs the golden doorknob and walks in.

The room is DIFFERENT. At least different from everything else he's seen in this building. It's spacious and large, with tall windows – sure – but also curtains falling to the floor on each side. The furniture's dark and wooden, there are bookshelves everywhere, filled with so many books it looks like a small library. It _is_ a library. Mr. Stark's library.

There's a long black couch in the corner, sitting in front of two large windows and a coffee table in front of it. A marble fireplace with flames already burning behind the glass, making it cozier. And of course, a large wooden desk with Mr. Stark leaning against it. He's wearing only a waistcoat, tie, black suit pants and sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled above his elbows. Hands in his pockets.

No coat to cover his body, no hat to hide a few strands of grey hair on his sides. No sunglasses to tune down the intensity of Mr. Stark's eyes that pierce Peter's soul mercilessly the very second he meets his gaze.

He was not ready. He was _SO_ not ready.

"Peter," Mr. Stark smiles with a small nod of his head.

Should he just say "hi"? Should he just nod? Should he come closer? SHOULD HE SHAKE HIS HAND _WHAT-IS-HE-SUPPOSED-TO-DO_?!

"Please, take a seat," The older man smiles amusedly and gestures to the obscenely-comfortable armchair facing his desk. It takes Peter a small moment to realize what it means until he remembers to pick his jaw from the floor and forces his feet to move.

He takes a seat in front of Mr. Stark but the man doesn't move. He's still leaning against the desk, ankles crossed. The intensity of his gaze burns Peter's skin and he simply can’t keep the eye contact. It's now that he realizes he forgot his notebook home. He has nothing to hold, his hands are perfectly free... Peter has no goddamn idea what to do with them. He could play with the visitor card he has pinned to his jacket- No. That would be unprofessional and-

"Why wouldn't you look at me?" 

Peter's head snaps up in surprise. His eyes wide and perplexed and _wishing_...

"With such pretty eyes," Mr. Stark smirks warm and Peter's _NOT_ expecting the way his body reacts. It's searing hot. Like a fluid filling his veins with a familiar feeling but at the same time entirely different. 

His nails dig into the fabric of his jeans.

"T-thanks..." He giggles awkwardly and Mr. Stark finally turns around to sit in his chair. He places his elbows on the wooden surface, entwines his fingers and looks at Peter. He's not really smiling but... There's always that soothing presence, the corner of his lip tugged up ever so slightly.

It's _not_ uncomfortable. It's... Peter doesn't know what it is. He doesn't know what's happening and how he should respond to this – he’s really not used to compliments. But as strange as it is, he’s stopped being nervous anymore. _Not_ praying for this meeting to be over as soon as possible – quite the opposite.

"Now, I don't want to take too much of your time today so-"

"No, it's okay! I don't mind. I can start right away, I can _stay_ longer if you need me to. I am perfectly ready, sir."

It comes out impulsively but so naturally Peter's swept away by the smoothness of his own words, barely recognizing his own voice. He prays he hasn't crossed any lines as Mr. Stark holds his gaze, perhaps a little longer than is needed and finally looks down with a _knowing_ smile. 

It’s an unnerving but exciting sensation – to see that this man knows something Peter's still yet to discover.

"I'm glad to hear that, Peter."

It sounds honest. Peter smiles in return and it's probably the first sincere, relaxed smile on his lips this week. No kicking around, no dumbstruck grins or excited squeeing. Just a tranquil, pure smile. 

Any doubts or fears repress to the back of his mind. They're not welcomed right now.

"Let's talk about your schedule," The older man picks up a paper laying on his desk and settles it in front of himself, "You're going to work weekends, naturally, and I hoped Thursdays and Fridays would be suitable for you? We can change Sundays to Wednesdays if you'd like to have at least some time free during the weekends. I'm sure your girlfriend or boyfriend would like that too?"

It seems like some alien spirit has possessed Peter ever since he walked in. Because what he does next is something he would never consider doing consciously. But this... It suddenly feels like second nature and it's _scary_. And thrilling.

Peter leans against the chair, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, smiling. He keeps the eye contact. He feels like he's _allowed_ to.

"I still don't have a _boyfriend_ , Mr. Stark," He says coyly, "I can work weekends, it's no problem."

Mr. Stark is the one to break the eye contact this time and Peter feels like he's won some kind of battle that none of them could actually lose.

"I must admit… I'm pleased to hear that, Peter." Mr. Stark smirks and holds the gaze. He looks like he’s just accepted something Peter didn’t realize he was offering. He picks up the pen and starts writing on the sheet of paper. Peter feels uncharacteristically brave with the next words.

"That I can work weekends or that I don't have a boyfriend?"

Did he say that? Oh, God, he didn't mean to _vocalize_ it.

The air's stuck in Peter's lungs as Mr. Stark stops writing and lifts his eyes from the paper. They seem a bit darker than before.

"Maybe _both_ , sweetheart."

Peter inhales sharply and when he exhales, he feels like he's not the same anymore. He's not lost and wandering. He _knows_ what he wants now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sooo much for reading dear!
> 
> Please, let me know what you think in the comments or just leave kudos ♥♥♥ I love y'all and hope you have a great week before we see each other on Christmas! ♥♥♥


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi dears! This one is really late today, I know but(t) what can I say? Xmas happened. I should have organized it better, guess I'm not really used to actually attending family thingies on this day yet since I have a family now? x3
> 
> Warning for domestic violence and hurt/comfort tags apply in this chapter. In case it's triggering for anyone. But(t) you read the tags at the start (right?) so I assume you are ready guys.
> 
> Thank my dear [vahisa1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vahisa1975/pseuds/vahisa1975) for betaing again, you saved my ass dear! ♥
> 
> HAPPY READING! ♥  
> (ps: I am posting 2 chapters this week)

No one has explained the rules to Peter, but it's a game. He doesn’t know what happens if he loses. No one has said what he needs to do to win. It's been not specified whether there can be only _one_ winner. 

But they _are_ playing.

It's subtle at first. Perhaps it stays that way but Peter's become much better at noticing. The way Mr. Stark excludes all the warm smiles only for him, how Mr. Stark is the only person that looks at him in a room full of people. He's invisible for his boss' business partners, customers, even his employees despite the fact he's one of them now. He stands in the corner, holds the tablet in his hands, listens... No one is aware of his presence.

And yet, Mr. Stark's gaze lingers, always a second longer than is needed. _His_ eyes on Peter while someone else is talking to his boss. Peter feels like a magnet – attracting them – making them follow every move he makes. In the meeting room full of significant citizens and important partners, Mr. Stark seems to find only one person worthy of his attention.

Peter's never expected to be that person.

They don't talk about it. Peter doesn't question it. He's too afraid to ask what it means when Mr. Stark's eyes get a shade darker. When he touches his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb as Peter returns the files back in their place. When his gaze darts to Peter's lips and back to his wide eyes. He can't be sure whether he knows what's going on or if it's just his wishful thinking.

And so they both remain silent, speaking only in the wordless language that's completely new to Peter. It's a communication that no words can encapsulate. 

Almost like a riddle made of Mr. Stark's hand on Peter's shoulder. Built from the pet names excluded only to him and tied together with ravenous looks. All of that polished in warm smiles that Peter keeps returning eagerly and yet... The riddle remains unsolved although Peter thinks he knows what's going on. He might have zero experience with dating but he'd be downright blind if he didn't notice. He doubts Mr. Stark even tries to be subtle but all the boldness Peter felt the first time they met in the office is gone. It was a short-lived rush of courage. 

Peter tries to navigate through the wordless sentences but he doesn't speak. Not out loud.

"You're good at this, Peter. Very good..." Mr. Stark muses from his chair. A thumb pressed against his chin, stroking the trimmed beard. 

Peter looks up from his spot in the armchair just in time to see the tiny movement of calloused fingers. He'd hate to miss that sight.

"Something wrong, kid?" The older man asks eventually when no answer is received.

Peter blinks and snaps back to attention. This has been happening a lot lately. Fortunately, Mr. Stark hasn't noticed.

"You seem kinda troubled lately," His boss puts away the laptop and leans closer, elbows on his desk and eyes intent on Peter. 

Okay, so he HAS noticed.

"N-no, no it's nothing, really. Just, uh... " _I just feel the air shifting every time you move closer and I don't know if you do too. I don't know what to do with it and I need YOU to tell ME_ – is what Peter wants to say. Of course, he knows better than doing something so reckless.

"Yes?" Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow, encouraging Peter to continue but he's... He's honestly too tired to think about an excuse, to _think_ at all. He doesn't know why he's been hoping something would change on Christmas. Mr. Stark doesn't cancel his appointments to stay with Peter, he doesn't kiss him under the mistletoe and he doesn't give him his unconditional love wrapped in gift paper. Because this is life, not a fairy tale – Peter _knows_ but… It doesn't make the disappointment hurt any less.

Peter assured Mr. Stark over and over that working today is okay. That Adrian is TOTALLY okay with him not staying for Christmas Eve. And so he works today. But between doing his hardest to avoid Adrian and his lack of courage to tell Mr. Stark how he feels, Peter's mood is decreasing rapidly.

Any other time he'd be ecstatic to be here – with Mr. Stark – on Christmas on top of that but he can't help the sinking feeling. It's only 5 pm but the cold December days are short and it's dark outside already. It just reminds him how fast his shift narrows to an end. Mr. Stark's schedule in his hands and the bold font only adds to that anxiety settling in Peter's stomach because he knows what bold font means. 

The meetings he's not allowed to attend for reasons that were never explained to him and he knows he has no right to ask but right now he'd very much liked to confront Mr. Stark about it. He'd like to delete it from his schedule, to keep it a secret and never tell him about it. The older man would never even notice. It's obvious he's unaware of the appointment and Peter just doesn't WANT TO go home… Not today. Not on Christmas.

Peter is usually asked to leave at least thirty minutes prior but this one starts in just five minutes. Mr. Stark hasn't asked him to leave yet – therefore he forgot.

Peter bites his lip, frowning at the bold letters on the screen of his StarkPad. He should say something... He is _supposed_ to say something, it's his JOB but… But he doesn't want to leave into the cold night. 

And even colder place he calls _home_.

"Peter."

The proximity of that velvet voice startles him but his heart practically decides to quit when Peter looks up. Rough fingers brush the right side of his jaw and the dark eyes meet his and... there's a sincere concern. 

MJ looks at him that way when he's trying to lie that everything's okay. Ned looks at him that way when he's trying to disparage his worries about Peter's newest bruises. Mr. Stark _is_ looking at him that way right now. Like he cares. And Peter doesn't know what to focus on first.

It’s the concern in his voice, it’s the closeness between their bodies and the touch of Mr. Stark's fingers that makes him want to moan and cry at the same time. His arms seem big enough, strong... He'd be safe in them. Perhaps, if he really tried to find comfort in the physical contact... If he asked, Mr. Stark would even hold him. But the frustration and anxiety had already clawed their way through Peter's defensive walls and set free all the self-doubts. He's aware, all too well, that a kid like him could never… possibly… with someone like Anthony Stark...

He'd seem just like an overreacting child with mood swings and a crush at best.

"I... I just... I thought-"

"Hey, boss. We interrupt-"

Peter doesn't get the chance to finish that sentence which is probably for the best. A man walks inside, accompanied by the redhead – Natasha – but he's cut off by Tony's growl just as quickly.

"Oh no, Clint, 'course you're not interrupting. Just invite yourself in since you own the place.” 

Sarcasm is drenching every syllable so much it makes Peter a little uncomfortable. 

“D'you need your hand broken as an excuse for not knocking? Cause I can arrange that." 

Mr. Stark turns around to face them so Peter doesn't see his expression but he doesn't have to. The looks on the faces of his employees are enough of a hint.

Peter's never heard his boss talk like this. It gets the point across but he's _very_ uncomfortable now. Standing up, he avoids possible eye contact with everyone in the room while the man – Clint – holds his hands up in an apology. He seems casual about it but there's a glimpse of real fear in his eyes.

"Tony," Natasha steps forward and nods towards Peter. He feels like he's shrinking, subconsciously moving behind Mr. Stark who takes a deep breath and smooths his hair with his palm. Turning around to face Peter, his expression and voice carry tranquility it lacked just a few seconds ago.

"I need you to leave, Peter."

"Y-yeah, sure, um... Should-should I wait outside while you have the meeting? I don't mind if-"

"No, that won't be necessary," Mr. Stark interrupts him and looks at the silver watch wrapped around his wrist. "It's Christmas, kiddo. Would hate to keep the family apart. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Given the circumstances, this doesn’t leave much space for Peter to protest.

"O-okay..."

Clint snickers and Tony's head snaps to his direction. It shuts the man up instantly. As Mr. Stark pats Peter on the back to encourage him towards the exit, he can see Natasha nudging the man with her elbow. She's not gentle about it.

"Goodnight, Mr. Stark," Peter says as he walks out the office but someone closes the door behind him before he can hear the reply.

It sends all the minor irritations into a march against Peter's positive thinking and he spirals from there. His eyebrows turn upward as he whines in the back of his throat, tears threatening to spill from already glassy eyes.

 _He doesn't want to go home._ Not on Christmas.

Peter takes a moment to enjoy the view from up there, doubting he'd ever get used to that sight. Normally, he'd just crash at MJ's or Ned's place. Adrian wouldn’t complain about him staying out tonight. Because Adrian's got company. A company that doesn’t want some teenager interrupting their Christmas party… Probably for Peter’s own sake.

But Ned left with MJ's parents out of town for the weekend. They begged him to go but Peter's got a job. Peter needs to be here for Mr. Stark. And now he doesn't have anywhere to go. He could just roam around the city for the rest of the evening but... He doesn't feel like he's going to be anywhere near presentable tomorrow for work if he stays outside in the cold December night.

Maybe all he needs is just the right positive mindset. If he sneaks in quietly, no one will notice he's home. If he makes it upstairs and stays in his room for the rest of the night, he'll be good. He can go without dinner, it wouldn't be the first time. Besides, his need to avoid Adrian and his friends is stronger than his hunger.

He should be just alright.

***

Apparently, the strongest positive mindset isn't the key to avoiding a group of drunk men, scattered all around the house. 

Even though they didn't expect Peter's unannounced arrival, they've been _kind_ enough to let him join. And their hospitality is truly astonishing. Especially Adrian's who is oh-so-generous with his smacks, growing bolder and more reckless with each sip from his booze. The _good-natured_ laughter from his friends each time Peter receives a hit only encourages him. They, too, play a game. 

But these people don't care if Peter wants to play along.

Which is why he's squeezed in the corner of the couch, surrounded by his adoptive father and five of his friends. Staring down at the empty glasses and bottles on the coffee table that he'll have to clean tomorrow. Peter's entire purpose right now is only about waiting for this to end. Waiting for the moment when Adrian lets him go upstairs and their hoarse voices will become only a distant threat.

"I said drink, goddammit," Adrian forces the glass of alcohol in Peter's hand with uncoordinated movements. As a result, half of the contents spill over Peter's jeans.

"Idiot, Jesus-fucking-Christ," Adrian rolls his eyes and smacks the back of Peter's head who instinctively shuts his eyes, slouching his shoulders as the impact stings his skull. Adrian hits him now and then when he's angry but when he's drunk... Those hits are the worst. 

He loses the sense in his hands, doesn't calculate how much strength needs to go into it. His movements are clumsy, fingers numbed by whiskey. Adrian hits harder, more vicious when he's like this. And still, the pain is nothing compared to the humiliation.

"If I were you, I'd sell him," One of his friends chuckles, the rest of them seconding that by nodding and murmuring in agreement.

Peter looks down, tightening the grip around the half-empty glass. If he could only squeeze it hard enough to break it... If he only could shatter it in his hand and shove it down Adrian's throat-

"Gonna drink or wha'?"

Peter gives the man sitting on the opposite chair a mournful glare. He hasn't cried this evening yet. He usually doesn't. He wouldn't let them break him enough to see his tears but he can only take so much.

"Aww, whatcha gonna do? Cry? _Boo-boo_."

The sarcastic baby voice is like a searing hot knife right in Peter's pride and his lips turn into a thin line while the rest of them laugh. He doesn't have time to think about how to regain that piece of dignity his glassy eyes are about to give out any moment now. And so he puts the glass to his mouth and kicks the drink in. Emptying it in one go, he slams it onto the table with a loud thud.

 _Everyone_ stares. Only the music plays from the speakers but this is the quietest moment he's had ever since he arrived home from Stark Tower.

The silence is short-lived, however. The next thing he hears is the annoyingly loud cheering of five men as Adrian wraps his arm around Peter's shoulder, rubbing it excitedly.

"That's m' boy! That's m' boy!" He grins – like he's _really_ proud of Peter.

The alcohol burns Peter's throat and he absolutely hates it. But when they pour him another shot – almost instantly – he's quick to realize drinking equals no smacks and punches. The choice is obvious as he takes another. And another. And another...

And they never stop pouring.

***

Peter doesn't know how long it's been or how much of his blood has turned into alcohol but he comes to a sad realization. All these bottles, all these drinks... They don't have the same effect on him as they have on Adrian and his "gang". 

He doesn't feel cheerful and definitely not blissfully numb. All Peter's aware of is how heavy his eyelids are and how deep is that hole in his chest. He feels like the rest of himself is crumbling into that pit and it's not painless. He's too alive to be numb but too tired to struggle. Or so he thinks...

"Hey, hey! Heyhey! Okay, here... Here's the idea!" It's audible in Adrian's voice how hard it is for him to form words but he's got everyone's attention regardless.

"Five shots... first one to fihn-f-finish can punch our little Ben, 'ere."

Peter cracks his eyes open from his spot in the corner where he's been slowly falling asleep and gives Adrian a confused look. His mind's too foggy and his survival instinct runs on delayed response.

"Oh, just shut up," Adrian wraps his arm around Peter's shoulders soothingly, pulls him closer. "It's for our friends, you want-the- you wan-want them to have fun, right?"

"Uh..."

"Aaah, c'mon lil' Benny, 'ere," Adrian nods to one of the guys and they pour Peter one more.

"Don't call me that?" Peter murmurs, rubbing his eyes.

Adrian's fingers grip the back of his hair so tight it feels like the tissue is ripped right from Peter's brain and he cries out, reaching behind to get a grasp on Adrian's wrist. Adrian tugs violently until Peter lets go and presses his face uncomfortably close to his cheek.

"You don't fucking tell me wha-what-what I can do, _brat_."

He's too close. The grip's too tight. Peter can feel Adrian's alcohol-soaked breath against his skin and he feels sick. His heartbeat transforms into painful banging against his ribcage that doesn't allow him to cooperate. To be numb… Or to submit.

He's alive.

Acting purely on instincts, Peter grabs the glass from the armrest and he cannot calculate how much force is needed so he gives it a rough guess. Using all the strength he can gather, Peter _smashes_ it against Adrian's temple, the alcohol inside splashing over both of their faces.

Peter's fast to close his eyes in time and they're still closed when Adrian lets go of his hair with a pained howl. Peter's already off the couch, stumbling away quickly while the rest of them are busy helping his father. He relies purely on muscle memory as he hurries to the front door, pulling his t-shirt up to wipe alcohol off his eyes and then finally opens them, grabbing his jacket.

He doesn't even look back as he runs into the night. The whole center of Peter's perception at the moment is the pavement that leads him further and further away from _home_. The dark edges don't matter, everything that's _behind_ him simply ceases to exist.

Peter holds his jacket closed around himself with his right arm. His left hand clutches onto Stark Industry employee ID like a drowning man on a straw.

***

Peter thought this was a good idea. He spent his last cash just to get a cab to the Stark Tower so this HAS to work, right? Perhaps he was thinking too much and forgot one little detail. Mr. Stark needs to grant access to the top floors but Mr. Stark's not in his office, he's probably sleeping or not even there...

It's _Christmas Eve_ , after all.

Peter's shivering against the glass wall of the elevator, the sleeve of his jacket wrapped around the palm of his right hand. He didn't realize he cut himself, not until in the cab. 

The Tower's empty at this hour, deadly silent. It's not a nice kind of silent. It allows all the drunken voices in his head to become louder. He's avoided the reception on purpose, using just his ID to get access everywhere he needed. If the people saw him like this, they'd call the police or something... He couldn't let that happen, they'd take him straight back to Adrian. 

Mr. Stark is his last resort now.

Peter hurries to the second elevator, holding his ID in front of the scanner but it doesn't open for him as it did for Ms. Potts. However, there's still a chance as the AI attempts to reach Mr. Stark. Peter just wishes he didn't forget his phone home but even if he remembered back then, he wouldn't return for it. If Mr. Stark doesn't answer-

 _"Kid? Is that you?_ "

It doesn't matter if it's the influence of alcohol, the adrenaline or Peter's hopeless crush, Mr. Stark's voice is a life jacket and keeps his head above water. He knows he's safe now, Peter feels like he doesn't need to be strong anymore and... And he cannot hold it in anymore. He bursts into tears and he doesn't care. 

"M-M-Mr. Stark, M-M-Mr. Stark, Mr. Sta-S-Stark!"

It's NOT what he wants to say but it's all that comes out as he hiccups. The uncontrollable shaking doesn't help. Fortunately, he doesn't have to say anymore. The elevator door opens and Peter launches himself in clumsily, hitting his right shoulder harshly against the wall. All he can do now is to stare at the blue screen showing the floors and Peter's heart beats a tiny bit faster when it passes Mr. Stark's office. The final destination is the penthouse. And when the door opens, his shelter stands right there in front of him.

Peter forgets he needs to move to get out, just like his first day while he sobs and giggles through his tears at the same time.

"Jesus Christ!" Mr. Stark gasps through gritted teeth and before Peter knows, he's in the older man's arms, strong hands holding each side of him and leading him out. The grip hurts, Peter's been punched there but he's not going to tell Mr. Stark to let go.

The penthouse is dark, the only light's coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows, a large Christmas Tree in the corner and from above the stairs. Peter wonders if Mr. Stark has company but his mind's too frantic to care. He drops onto the white comfortable sofa and his boss kneels in front of him, placing a warm palm on Peter's cheek.

"Who did this to you, Peter? What happened?"

"I-I don't k-k-know, s-s-s... s-s-some g-g-guys..." He _tries_ , he doesn't want to stutter but it just won't go any other way. It's like there's a major miscommunication between what he wants to say and what his body lets him.

"Did you drink?!"

Peter's breath must stink of booze and give him away. All he hears in Mr. Stark's voice is a shock but it's quickly gone when Peter just weakly attempts to talk again.

"I-I-I-I d-d-d-din't w-want an-an-and-"

It's hard to see Mr. Stark's face through all the tears but the rough fury and concern paint his eyes pitch black. It's impossible to miss.

"Fucking Christ, you're in shock," 

The older man stands up quickly and puts his hand on the back of Peter's hair – gentle and firm, reassuring – it's nothing like Adrian. 

"Don't worry, I'll be right back, _right back_ sweetheart, okay?" Mr. Stark kisses the top of Peter's head and under any other circumstances, he'd be drowning in the pure joy that gesture was supposed to ignite.

Right now, it just prevents him from freaking out when the older man disappears from sight. The longer he's gone, the stronger it becomes – the way Adrian's breath felt against his skin and how tightly he gripped his hair... The loud mocking laughter that clawed on Peter's self-worth. The scenarios of how much worse that evening could go, what would happen if Peter stayed, it's sending his brain haywire.

But Mr. Stark is true to his word and back in no time, chasing all of the noise in Peter's head away just with his radiating presence.

"Give me."

Peter lets go of his jacket and allows Mr. Stark to clean the wound on his hand, hissing as the antiseptics come into contact with the cuts. He can't stop shivering. His entire spine hurts from the unstoppable frantic micromovements of his body.

"You'll be alright, Petey, okay? I promise."

"T-t-tha-than-nk y-y-you, M-M-"

"Shh, you don't have to talk, darling." 

Tony ties the bandage around Peter's palm, not too tight, not too loose. "And it's Tony." His voice is still so tense, despite the kind words...

"T-T-Tony..." 

Peter wants to scream as his speech just won't go back to normal but Mr. Stark – Tony – only rewards him with a kind smile – although marred with worries – and nods. Like Peter's done good, like he's doing great... like Tony's proud of him. 

_Nothing like Adrian._

"But I need you to tell me what happened now, okay?" Something in those black eyes makes Peter look away... Because he never wanted to lie to this man. And despite how much he'd like to speak the truth, he can't.

"I-I-I don't do-don't know s-s-some gu-"

"But where was your father? Didn't you go home, kiddo?" 

Tony desperately tries to understand, the frustration clear in his voice and Peter needs to swallow the lump in his throat. 

He fails and chokes on it.

"Was-was on my way!" 

Peter cries out, louder than he wants and cannot stop the coughing that follows. Tony clicks his tongue and looks around, standing up and finally leaves it be. Peter knows probably not forever but at least for now. He doesn't ask anything more.

"I'm going to hold you now, okay? We'll get you nice and warm, we'll just relax together." 

Tony picks up a large soft blanket he brought with himself – Peter didn't even notice – and spreads it out.

When Peter doesn't protest, the older man steps on the sofa and if Peter felt safe before... It was nothing compared to what he feels now. It's like he understands the meaning of that alien word for the first time in his life as Tony settles down behind him, legs spread so Peter can lean against his chest and there's only the blanket between their bodies, wrapped around Peter together with Tony's arms.

The older man rocks him gently back and forth, his beard brushes against Peter's temple.

"You'll be alright... No one's gonna hurt you again, Petey... You'll be alright..."

It's a low, quiet hum going through Peter's whole body that gently shuts down all the red lights that had him stuck in alert mode. He shivers for a long time but it eventually stops and he can't remember being this exhausted ever before. Tony holds a glass of water for him to drink from, then settles it back on the table.

Peter doesn't want to drift away but his brain finally decides that the environment is safe and his body's allowed to go to sleep mode. He doesn't know when it happens but he knows the last thing he's aware of are the protective wings of Anthony Stark around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am probably a dick but I am a very exhausted dick so if ya kind people give me a day or two (or three), I'll deliver the next chapter this week.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the pain, remember **"eventual happy ending"** tag and accept hugs from me. Leave comments and kudos if you'd like, your support gives me the will to keep writing! ♥♥♥


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, life sometimes happens and well... I'm sorry I didn't manage to post it in the same week BUT(t) have this chapter the first day of the new year, let's start it on a hopeful note!
> 
> I hope you enjoy my dears and HAPPY NEW YEAR to y'all ♥♥♥

This wouldn't have happened if Peter was his.

The thought crossed Tony's mind instantly, the very second he saw the shivery figure in the elevator. Whatever unfortunate events the kid had to face that night, they would have never taken place if Peter was his. If Tony only stopped playing games and took what he wanted...

Because he knew _oh-so-well_ , Peter wanted it too.

The poor little thing couldn't be more obvious even if he tried. But Tony was patient. He enjoyed the game they've been playing together – building up the tension, increasing the yearning... So it doesn't make a difference, whether Peter's just an assistant or his sugar boy, seeing him in the state he arrived in was infuriating...

It's something past 1 am when the kid falls asleep, still leaning against his chest. His desperate attempts to speak and endless failures left echoes of stuttering in Tony's ears. Peter’s tears linger on Tony's fingertips. He stops the slow, rocking motion once the regular breathing is the only sound that fills the room. 

He's been repressing all his rage but once he's not occupied by keeping the kid from an absolute breakdown, he cannot stay calm any longer. His mind is too active to _not_ think about at least twenty ways how to make them – whoever they are – regret every second of their miserable lives before being pushed into the waste shredder at Stark Industries. He wants their names, he wants their sorry asses and he wants to hear regret drip from every word, every little plea for mercy just to show them none.

However, there's still an emotionally and physically drained teenager in his arms that needs to get rest. Tony doesn't want to stir him, not so soon after the crying finally stopped. And quite frankly, he's enjoying this. To have Peter come crying _to him_ , turning to Tony's open arms for help... Yes, of course, he'd prefer this never even happened. But the kid sought him out when he was lost and Tony isn't turning down that kind of trust.

Besides, from now on... NO ONE will ever hurt that boy. That is the one goddamn thing Tony can guarantee.

He takes out his phone from the pocket of his dress pants, his left hand still tenderly petting Peter's hair. They're damp, drying up from all the snowflakes and sweat. He glances to the large window that makes the entire left wall – two floors high – then back at the boy sleeping in his arms. The snowstorm outside is nothing compared to the hurricane that's building inside him, ready to be unleashed the second he finds the men responsible.

Speaking of which...

 **T S (01:32 AM)**  
I wabt the twins in here tomorroe morning

 **Pep (01:34 AM)**  
Understood  
Anything wrong? Is it about Hydra?

 **T S (01:35 AM)**  
Dont have time to ecxplain. Jusr get them here

 **Pep (01:35 AM)**  
Are you texting with one hand?

Tony ignores her question and closes the chat. There are a few more people he needs to get for tomorrow, including Happy who's just been assigned a new job – he's not letting the kid go around alone ever again. The matter would be dealt with faster if he could call but Tony bears in mind Peter's rest. Everything takes longer than it usually would, texting with one hand is not Tony's strongest suit as Pepper so kindly pointed out. By the time he's done arranging all the meetings, texting his men to keep an eye on the streets even though he doesn't explain what specifically they need to look for, it's already almost 3 AM. 

This would be much easier if Peter said something more than just "some guys" but he can't blame the kid for speaking as little of it as possible. Whatever Peter's been doing, it doesn't settle. He stinks of booze and cigarettes. Even though his clothes aren't ruined – thank god Tony's already enraged mind doesn't have to think about THAT possibility – his hand was bloodied. The wounds too familiar for Tony not to recognize them.

Shattered glass.

Whatever Peter's been doing when this happened, it simply doesn't fit him. It's anything but him, Tony already knows that much about the kid. And the file from Pepper that still sits in the drawer of his desk only proves it. Peter Parker is not the type to go to a club and get himself in trouble. Or even less probably – to start the trouble. No, this is all sweetheart, brilliant mind and geeky hobbies, polite and kind. There's more to him, of course, but that's something no file can teach Tony. He's aware.

Brushing his fingers through the soft curls, the boy shifts a little and rubs his head against the tip of Tony's nose.

No... No file, no playing around, no bullshit. Enough of being subtle. Just the idea of someone laying as much as a finger on the kid makes his blood boil. He'll make him his darling boy, he'll learn everything about Peter that no file could tell him and no observation from a distance could show. 

He'll wrap his wings around this little hummingbird and anyone who comes too close will get their eyes clawed out.

***

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty, where is your son?"

" _Uhhh... Where's... Well, here? What's wrong? Did he do something?_ "

Tony can hear it clearly in the other man's voice, he just fucking woke up. He glances at the watch on his wrist – 10 AM.

"GOOD. Although, in that case, perhaps you forgot to mention you adopted twins?" Tony raises his eyebrow as he walks to the large window of his office. 

" _Huh?_ "

Tony doesn't snap easily but Adrian's getting on his nerves lately so he's just about done for now. 

"Because that would be the only explanation how PETER's sleeping on my couch right now." He growls. There's a silence on the other side. He hears someone else's voice and narrows his eyes.

"Dropped a party yesterday and forgot you have a kid, Adrian? You can cut the bullshit right here because I'm not in the mood."

" _Uh... Sorry he bothered you, Tony. I-_ "

"That's not the fucking point here. I don't have kids, Adrian, but I know very well how to take care of my people, you know that. We're not talking business now, I'm talking **take care of your goddamn child before you decide to pretend you're 20 again.** "

It's hard to believe he needs to lecture a grown-ass-man on family values but Adrian is REALLY lacking in that department. Tony knows it's none of his business how others raise their kids, that he can't tell them how... Except, he CAN.

" _So... What happened?_ " Adrian asks – for the first time doing something useful – and Tony sighs, rubbing the side of his face for a moment.

"Not sure. Maybe he'll tell you more. But you take care of this and pick him up, hear me?"

" _Course I will. Thanks for... calling me. I appreciate, Tony._ "

"I heard that already." Tony replies coldly and hangs up.

***

The first thing that comes out of the blur is the surface beneath. The light makes the heavy curtains of his own eyes too bright to let him sleep and Peter groans softly. A few seconds later, he realizes he's _not_ in his own bedroom and he's not home. And perhaps, that's the reason why he doesn't panic. Why he doesn't sit up abruptly, why there's no fear. No alarms going off and screaming in his head. Actually, he feels like he's slept for years and could contently just pull the blanket over his head and continue.

Oh, yes, the warm blanket. Fingers brush ever so slightly over the material, trying how soft, how soothing it is. And so it's his curiosity – more than anything else – that forces him to sit up. 

"Hmph..." He groans as he stretches, yawning. Except the blunt buzzing in Peter’s skull, there's nothing disturbing. There's just that feeling of safety he cannot quite explain and... then he cracks his eyes open.

It takes a moment for them to adjust to the light, making Peter frown and then slowly relax his face but when it happens, he cannot quite help it as his jaw drops and his brain finally connects the events from yesterday with the present. Mr. Stark's penthouse. His living room – flooded with the orange and red hues of the morning light. The sun is not high yet, not at all and the brightness of all the white surfaces – marble, wood and glass – are muted. 

Morning, huh? It seems like he didn't sleep as long as he thought, after all.

Peter takes in the surroundings, connects them with the hectic memories from yesterday. The glass he drank from still sits on the coffee table but refilled. Two white pills sits next to it that Peter recognizes as Tylenol and he grabs them clumsily, drinking the entire glass right after, finally looking around.

Even if he was calm enough to actually notice how it looked in there, it was too dark to see. There's a bar, open kitchen in the corner of the room that seems larger than yesterday. A fireplace on the wall, grey bricks that distort into the white wall gradually from there. A TV, abstract paintings hanging on the other side and a few plants. It's not like Mr. Stark's office or Stark Tower. It's like a mixture of the two. Modern and stylish with that urban vibe that makes him feel cozy on the sofa. He remembers that one – large and rounded and oh-so-comfy. He remembers the huge Christmas tree in the corner, the open stairs, and large windows. The more he thinks of it, the more pictures return to focus, not as blurry as he would expect them to be.

But...

Peter also remembers the strong arms around his body. The hands that were holding him together while he crumbled under the weight of last night. The soothing words of a velvet voice, unfortunately not as vivid in his mind as he'd wish them to be. He can't even recall the warmth of Mr. Stark's body radiating from behind him. The more he tries to grasp the good parts, the faster they slip through his fingers, making his head ache. Out of his reach until they fade completely and Peter can't even remember what exactly Mr. Stark told him.

For the first time since he's woken up, he's afraid.

Did it even happen? He didn't just imagine it, right? Well, he was drunk... It could be... Maybe Adrian put something in his drink, maybe he was high too. Maybe there's an awfully formal paper waiting for him in an envelope, telling him he's no longer an employee of Stark Indu-

"Thought you'd never wake up."

That voice strikes through him like lightning and revives all the memories with a force of a tidal wave. His heart hammers in his chest, for the first time Peter's aware of having one. He's not just awake, he's _alive_ and the buzzing under his skin is finally a pleasant one.

Peter turns around just in time to see Mr. Stark walking towards him from the wide hallway he didn't notice was there before. Sleeves rolled up, waistcoat and no tie... He's wearing white and no... shoes. Is this a casual version of Mr. Stark? Peter barely registers the tray with food in the older man's hands, too busy ogling.

"How are you feelin', kiddo?"

It's an honest question, Peter can tell. Mr. Stark's voice has that warm hue to it that he's never noticed with anyone else. Maybe Ms. Potts a few times. The tray is placed onto the glass surface of the coffee table and the older man joins Peter on the sofa. He wouldn't mind if Mr. Stark sat a bit closer...

"I, uh, well..." 

Wow, awake for barely a few minutes and already showing off his outstanding communication skills.

"Better than yesterday?" Mr. Stark offers with a small smile and Peter takes it, nodding eagerly.

"Y-yeah, much better, sir, much better," He's quite out of breath as he says it, not sure if it's the erratic movement of his head or the way the man next to him makes him forget about the surrounding world. Either way, he quits nodding quickly or he might drop his brain on the floor.

"It's Tony." He reminds him with a smirk that shows the pearly fangs and makes Peter gulp.

"T-Tony, _sir_ , yes," Peter repeats and Mr. Sta- TONY, lets out a contagious laugh.

"I'm glad to hear that, Peter. Now, why don't you have a piece?"

Peter's eyes dart to the man's crotch before he can even think.

"Of the dinner," Tony gestures to the coffee table and fixes Peter's attention back to the tray.

"OH! Oh, yeah, y-yes, thank you," He stutters out, reaching for the – Subway chicken sandwich – from a silver tray. Peter's stomach roars, the hunger didn't make itself known until now.

The food really looks like from a commercial. So much that Peter debates whether it's even real food. Figuring out he can't say anything inappropriate-slash-embarrassing while eating, he stuffs his face with bread and fights the urge to moan. Why is that the best Subway of his life? _Why does that even surprise him at this point?_

"You like?" Tony asks; the genuine interest behind those words makes Peter emotionally ache in a completely different way than he's used to.

"Uh-hm, it's a _good_ kush," Peter tries his best to pronounce it clear enough to be understandable and smile at the same time, all while trying to keep the food in his mouth. Not an easy task as it turns out.

Tony's eyebrows furrow a little and his eyes dart to the side- OH, RIGHT.

"I mean, uh-" Peter chokes a little and coughs, clearing his throat after he swallows and feels the awkward heat creep up his neck. "I mean it's really really nice. It's uh... Yeah, it's a really good one... sir."

"Tony." He's reminded again which only makes Peter's cheeks hotter.

Peter takes another bite and Tony stands up, helping himself to a drink at the bar. It's impossible not to stare and... _Appreciate_ the view. The older man's bottom looks sinfully good in those pants, tailored for him. The silence gives Peter a moment to think and he's actually surprised he's not been reminded of yesterday’s events yet. Maybe Tony just wants to give him a chance to wake up first... Wait. Did Tony call his food "DINNER" just a while ago?

"Mr.- Tony?" Peter fights the urge to cringe as he fucks up the name again. The older man seems to be unphased by it and simply looks over his shoulder while pouring himself a glass of amber liquid. He hums in a question.

"You called it dinner." Peter points out.

"Well," Tony chuckles, "What would you call a meal served at 5 PM?"

Thank god the tray is on Peter's lap otherwise, the Subway would end up on the floor.

"What?!" Peter squeaks and he can't really blame Tony for turning around in surprise. Yeah, he's capable of very high-pitched sounds and this one hurt even his own ears.

"You okay, kid?" The man frowns, returning back with a drink and a bottle of mineral water that's handed to Peter. He accepts it absently. Every subatomic piece of his body freaks out. He actually feels the familiar burning in his eyes. Adrian's going to kill him. He's going to murder him and no one will ever find the body.

"Hey. Hey, Petey, relax. It's okay," Tony sits down – closer this time – and sets his drink on the coffee table, never breaking the eye contact. His voice is so calm... Like someone trying to placate a perturbed animal. 

It _helps_.

"I've already called your father, no need to worry."

Peter pulls off the best smile he can possibly muster although it feels incredibly stiff. If only Tony knew how DISTURBING that information is instead. The exact opposite of what it was supposed to be. It really can't get worse than this.

"He's going to pick you up when you're ready," Tony smiles and Peter realizes how wrong he was.

It _CAN_ get worse. It just did.

"Hey, it's okay, kid, listen to me," Tony moves – even closer – and wraps his arm around Peter's shoulder. His eyes immediately look up to meet Tony's; fuck all the worries and breathing irregularity be forgotten. 

Tony's nose almost touches Peter's, he's so close. Peter can see the color of his eyes so clearly now; no sunglasses in the way, no dim light... He's always had a problem with maintaining the eye contact with people – Ned being the only exception and even with MJ he sometimes needs to look aside. But this man, this much older man who has power and money and position that make Peter no equal to him in any shape or form – HE is the one Peter can look in the eye and just... _relax_.

For he finds nothing but kindness there. And everything that's missing in Adrian's eyes.

"Whatever happened yesterday, it won't happen again," Tony brushes his thumb over Peter's cheek and his emotions are reaching the boiling point. " _I_ won't let it happen again."

The sincerity of Tony's promise breaks that dam Peter didn't realize he's built. Bursting into tears, he hides his face in the older man's chest instinctively and there's no doubt of how welcomed he is there. There's no hesitation in the way Tony's arm tightens around him, the way he pulls him closer and pets his hair with the other hand. He doesn't tell him to stop crying, he doesn't seem to be bothered by it. Instead, Tony tells him to let it out and so Peter does.

He wishes Tony's promise wouldn't be broken. But it will be. And there's nothing this kind man can do about it. Because it will happen. And it will happen again… and again. Tony thinks he's making Peter feel safe, that he's giving him to his guardian when in fact, he's throwing him to a vulture. 

And Peter can't tell him. No matter how much he wishes he could, there's no way. Tony would call the police, social workers, he'd fire Adrian and they'd be in the mess that'd be beyond Peter's survival skills. He doesn't want to be left alone again, he doesn't want to be without home it… It could be always worse than Adrian… Right?

So instead, he just cries it out. He cries about the trap he's fallen into and about no escape route this time. He cries because he's not sure what he's done to deserve the kindness of Mr. Stark and he cries because he's the only thing that makes him want to stay _trapped_. Eventually, he's out of tears and somehow, sitting on Tony's lap, curled up in his arms. The chest under him raises with each inhale of Tony's lungs while Peter's cheek rests against him, the annoying buzzing slowly but surely stops. 

The silence that follows is not uncomfortable or awkward. It just feels right. Everything feels right. He's not even phased by the fact he's sitting in Tony's lap because at this point, it doesn't need an explanation, it doesn't need to be justified.

It's _right_.

"How does it happen that someone like Adrian Toomes decides to adopt a son?" Tony asks out of the blue, voice calm, probably just trying to start a conversation and distract Peter from his murky thoughts. He doesn't know Adrian _IS_ the reason why Peter had them in the first place but that's okay.

He's calm now.

"He told me when I asked but... It was quite hard to believe."

Peter feels Tony's smile against his hair when he says it. It's contagious, just like his laughter. Yes... Yes, it is hard to believe someone like Adrian would attempt to become a parent. Not so hard to believe he's failing spectacularly each day ever since.

"Yeah, it's true... Guess it was just as unbelievable for him," Peter shrugs and Tony hums in response. Peter doesn't want to say more and Tony doesn't force him to. It stays at that for a long while. Nothing more than just calm breathing and regular heartbeat. Peter's hair is not forcefully grabbed, it's _petted_. His head is not smacked but _kissed_ every now and then with the slightest touches of Tony's lips that make his entire body shiver. Peter's never felt anything as strong as this.

He doesn't want it to end. He doesn't want to go home.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?"

Another question Peter doesn't expect but this one is much more appreciated.

"Um... I... work?" Peter winces at how raspy his voice comes out and clears his throat.

"No, you don't."

The certainty in Tony's voice makes Peter push himself up and look the older man in the eyes. Before he can start freaking out about the possibility of being fired, Tony's hand is on his cheek and he can barely remember his own name.

"Tomorrow, you're getting spoiled," Tony smiles, the thumb caresses his cheek.

Peter's brain does something really weird – like it suddenly forgot how to operate – and he opens his lips a few times to say something but nothing comes out. Tony's amused chuckle actually startles the shit out of him.

"Christ, you're adorable, kid," Tony pulls him against his chest again and Peter's fingers curl into the fabric of his t-shirt automatically.

"So... L-like... Like a _date_?" As soon as Peter says it, he hopes it was inaudible and at the same time, he wishes he screamed instead.

" _Exactly_ like a date," Tony confirms and Peter's grateful he can't see his face. It's a real struggle to keep all the inhuman high-pitched noises inside when he feels like bursting with fireworks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopeful 2019 :)
> 
> Leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed ♥
> 
> I'm going on a vacation so I see you all when I come back, not next Tuesday but the one after. I love you all and hope you won't miss me too much! _*hugs and love*_ **You guys are the best** ♥
> 
> PS: You can say hi on my [Art Blog](https://blush-incarnate.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (PS: The reason why Adrian adopted Peter will be explained in the future as I said, DW, this was just teaser xP)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I **KNOW** , the vacation was longer than expected. I am sorry and I wish I could be faster BUT(t), here we are now and that's what matters, right? _Right?_ Right.
> 
> I hope you all darlings had a wonderful time and that you enjoy this delayed chapter! Hope it was worth waiting for ❤️ Lots of love ♥♥♥

Last night when the boy slept soundly against his chest, Tony has already decided. The knowledge HE was the one keeping Peter safe ignited something unexpectedly strong, something he definitely doesn't intend to fight. Tony is done playing games. And he is more than pleased to see Peter on the same page.

He had a feeling the kid wanted him this whole time. But what could be mistaken for simple respect or politeness, admiration and kindness once is now crystal clear.

Every little shiver of Peter Parker in Tony's arms makes that statement. Loud and clear. With each caress of the thin fingers against Tony's shoulder. Each time he shifts in his lap to get impossibly close and seek the attention, not hiding his hunger. He feels… _touch-deprived_ in Tony's arms. Peter takes his hand and tugs on it, forcing out a reaction. It's an invitation and Tony understands. After all, he speaks the language of unspoken words much better than this boy does. He presses his lips against Peter's forehead, hands still caressing his back. He has to close his eyes when he feels the kid shiver against his body and the shallow breath intoxicates him. He forgets everything else – or at least – he doesn't _care_ about anything else.

Tony doesn't care about the delayed payments. He doesn't care about the stock. He doesn't care about Russians or Stark Industries, not about the market and not about rats. The names of his soldiers slip from his memory and maintaining the territory doesn’t seem like anything to worry about. Bribing feds and getting rid of the snitches – nothing but a distant noise in the background. For now anyway.

"Tony?" 

Tony meets Peter's eyes as the kid pulls back. He looks like he wants to say something – to explain it – but those pink lips just close in a thin line. Tony's grip on the slender hips tightens ever so slightly. He would very much like to force those lips open...

"Yes, angel?" He doesn't hesitate with the pet name, entirely enamored with the way Peter's cheeks bloom with the prettiest shade of pink. The way he coyly lowers his gaze, barely containing the giggles. The boy is so awkward with accepting compliments. Not used to hearing them – Tony presumes.

"I um-- I just--" Peter fidgets, nervously playing with his fingers.

"Look at me." 

Tony touches his chin, making the boy look up. "Don't hide those eyes from me."

He means it. This boy is extremely attractive and sweet at the same time but those eyes... Tony can't get enough of what he sees in them. There’s a file in his drawer that tells him about Peter's tragedies. He knows the boy lost his parents in a car crash, his uncle due to a heart attack and his aunt just six months later during a fire because the neighbor had a shitty toaster. One disaster after another seemed to follow like a plague and eleven-year-old Peter Parker has seen more death than most people in their whole lives. Despite all of that, there is so much life in his eyes. The sparks ignite them when Tony praises his work, when he rewards the boy with a smile, often latching onto each word like he's starving.

Peter looks down again, his smile wider and cheeks redder but Tony reminds him what he just said by forcing his chin up again. Peter meets his gaze and the silence falls. Tony doesn't push, he waits to see if the boy can finally speak, whatever it is he wants to say. There's still some patience left but it runs short. Tony can't help it as his thumb caresses up Peter's chin... Touches the bottom lip and Peter parts his mouth without the slightest struggle.

_Pliant... Perfect... Practically vibrating under his touch._

Eventually, it's the boy who's first out of patience.

He closes the small gap between their bodies in one swift motion and Tony has to smirk against his lips when they finally meet. He welcomes the boy in his arms, holding him tighter and closer while Peter tries his best to force Tony's lips apart in a symphony of soft panting and tiniest moans.

Peter's eager. Oh-so-eager…

His fingers dig into Tony's neck so hard it's painful and he doesn't quite manage to find a rhythm between kissing and breathing. It's messy, it's clumsy and arousing in every possible way. It's Peter's first kiss – Tony realizes – and just that knowledge is enough to make him fully hard. The erection pressing against Tony's stomach tells him the feeling is mutual and he opens his eyes during the kiss, just to _see_. And he definitely doesn't regret that decision. 

Peter's cheeks are flushed with the darkest red, they _burn_ against Tony's skin and when Tony licks into his mouth, he's rewarded with the most arousing sight. Peter's eyelids flutter, half open – just enough to see how his eyes roll back in pleasure – and the prettiest sound bursts through him. A moan – no – a _whimper_. Tony devours it and forces more of it out, reaching up to get a hold on the back of Peter's neck and finally force some discipline into the kiss.

The boy had his fun, now it's Tony's turn to take.

Peter's pliant in his arms, shaking as he surrenders to Tony. He makes those addictive noises every few seconds and cries out in the prettiest way when Tony takes his bottom lip between his own to suck. Finally, Tony pulls back to give them both a chance to catch their breaths and he feels like Peter would fall if he didn't hold him. The kid's eyes are unfocused and glassy – are those... tears? – lips still parted and begging for more. Tony simply has to touch them, brushing his thumb over the wet skin that feels more swollen than before. The pink has turned into red and Peter exhales, his head falling to the side with a small moan. Tony needs to place his hand on the burning cheek in order to help the kid look at him again.

His voice sounds hoarse when he asks, "Peter... Baby, you alright?"

The boy nods and closes his eyes, pushing his cheek against Tony's hand. Tony licks his lips as he watches the work of art that is Peter Parker, trembling in his hands. He's pleased to know he still has it in him but it's not his own charms that Tony wants to admire at the moment. The way Peter responds to the slightest shift in the air is exquisite. Just one kiss – enough to turn the boy into the prettiest wreck… Peter doesn't only look like it, he _tastes_ like he's deprived. He _IS_ yearning. And Tony is going to give him _everything_.

As if hearing his thoughts, Peter falls against his chest and wraps his arms around Tony's neck, holding tight and it's there again. Tony finds himself quickly falling a victim to the indescribable sensation. The new addiction. He _wants_ the boy to depend on him.

"I don't--" Peter starts but he's cut off by the ringing of Tony's phone.

He pets the boy's back and kisses his hair as he reaches to the small stand next to the sofa to press the button.

"Yes?" His voice doesn't hide what a bad timing this is. Peter remains silent and buries his face in the crook of Tony's neck.

It's Pepper. _"Wanda and Pietro are here. Can I send them in?"_

"Tell them to wait."

 _"Adrian's waiting for Peter in the lobby, too. I think he should go home now._ " She adds and Tony's grip on the boy tightens.

_Damn it._

He supposes it's not the right thing to do – to keep a child away from their frightened parent but he's tempted to. Fortunately, there is still enough self-control in him. Besides, they have all the time in the world. "Fine. Tell Adrian he'll be there in a bit. And send the twins in."

_"Got it, boss."_

Tony sighs and tries to gently push the boy off his lap... Only Peter doesn't move. He feels tense in his arms, almost stiff and Tony smirks against his hair.

"C'mon, darling boy. Pretty sure your dad's worried sick." He chuckles lightly and tries to stand up – Peter's grip tightens around him even more. It's nearly painful.

"Hey... Petey, it's okay. Remember tomorrow? The date?" He kisses Peter's cheek. "You'll see me again in no time, baby."

After a while, Peter finally let's go and his cheeks are wet with tears. Tony can't help the fond smile as he wipes them away. If there were any doubts the kid wanted to be with him, they're gone now.

"No tears, okay? You have my number, you can text me."

That seems to finally cheer Peter up, at least a little and his lips create a thin line as he nods, taking a deep breath. At last, the boy gets off his lap and stands up to get his things. Tony watches him for a moment before he pushes himself up and wraps his arm around Peter's shoulders once he's ready. The elevator opens and Wanda walks in with Pietro, nodding at him in a greeting.

"Wait in the office," He tells them as he leads Peter to the elevator.

They nod in unison and leave – they already know where to go. Peter seems a little unsure about being seen by other people like this but Tony makes a statement by pulling him closer against his side. Once they make it to the elevator, the doors open and Peter hesitates. 

He squeezes his jacket in his hands and looks up at Tony.

_How can he get any more delectable?_

"So... I see you tomorrow?"

This time, Tony is the one to close the gap between them. Taking his chin between his fingers, he lifts Peter's head to plant a long kiss on his lips. He utterly loves the way Peter's left breathless when he pulls back.

"Text me."

"Mmm..." Peter hums with a nod and hugs Tony one more time before reluctantly walking into the elevator.

Peter leans against the wall and meets Tony's eyes. They hold the gaze until the door closes and once Peter's gone, Tony has to bite his lip. The boy's taste lingers on his tongue... Peter has no idea how much Tony wants it to be tomorrow already. With a sigh, he heads to his office. Hurting his baby was a grave mistake and someone's about to pay dearly for that.

***

Peter wishes the elevator would never reach the ground floor. He wants to think back to how Tony's arms felt on his body, how he tasted... Peter wants to recall his very first kiss and the moment when he, for the first time in his life, felt safe. 

But he can't.

Because the elevator brings him closer to Adrian with each second. It's like descending from heaven to hell. And it's ridiculous how accurate that analogy is. Peter might even laugh at it if he wasn't so busy trying to fight the prickling in his eyes. It's suffocating. There are so many things that make him want to giggle silly, spin around with dreamy sighs and just count the seconds until he can kiss the lips of Tony Stark again but they can't burst through. The _fear_ is strangling all of the beauty he's just been given and Peter's body doesn't know what to make out of this. Trembling, he moves stiffly and something cold shifts in his stomach. This is the most stressed he's ever felt in his entire life and in the whole four years he's spent with Adrian – never – has he been this terrified.

The elevator door opens and sure enough, his adoptive father waits there, sitting in the nearby armchair. Peter doesn't even have a second to brace himself, Adrian's eyes are already on him. It’s as if he's been looking through the metal of the door this whole time and Peter hesitates.

_He – just – can't – move._

Adrian senses it. Stands up, walks slowly closer and Peter has a chance to notice the square bandage pad over his right temple and gulps.

"Peter," Adrian nods, his face unreadable and Peter's throat turns dry the second he hears his name.

Because there is no "Benjamin". And it's a statement. It's like he's told the mockery and teasing is over. They are done with the games. Adrian acknowledges how serious this is and Peter knows – he realizes – with the full force, how thoroughly fucked he is.

"Excuse me-- Are you going up?" A man in a suit walks in the elevator and it takes Peter a moment to realize he's in the way.

"N-no..."

He steps out, ignoring the way the man eyes him because all he can see are the lifeless blue eyes of his father. Adrian stands too close and Peter wants to run away, go back to _heaven_ but it's too late for all of that.

"Merry Christmas, son."

Peter recognizes the gravelly voice that follows after a night full of drinking.

"M-merry Christ-- Christmas..."

Adrian holds the gaze for an uncomfortably long while before he puts his beanie on and turns around. "Time to go home." The man rasps and heads out. 

Peter follows reluctantly and he's shocked how much he'd prefer to be called Benjamin right now. And he'd never even think he'd ever want such a thing but now that he knows how his name sounds on Adrian's lips, he doesn't want it anymore. Michelle calls him Peter. Ned calls him Peter. _Tony_ does…

Adrian is not allowed.

***

The entire ride home, Peter's ready. He's ready for the lectures and speeches, insults and threats... He's ready for all of that. Except none of it comes and that's perhaps the only thing Peter is NOT prepared for. Adrian keeps his eyes on the wet asphalt, the only sound is the wipers brushing off the snow from the windshield. It's getting dark already. Peter looks in the rearview mirror, praying Adrian would notice, would say something – EXPLAIN in some way what is going on but there's nothing except that ominous silence. It's like he pretends Peter doesn't even exist. And so Peter's attention shifts to the wound he's caused yesterday. He debates whether he should just open the door and jump out of the car, preferably die in the process or try to apologize… No. Jumping out seems like the better option here.

The thirty-five minutes of the ride home has never felt this long and as Adrian pulls in front of the house, Peter's gears are already hard at work, trying to decide if he should run upstairs right away and have better chances on getting in the bathroom or he should wait and see what's going on. Eventually, the curiosity gets better of him and he simply follows Adrian inside through the snow. Once again, he expects something horrible to happen the moment he closes the front door but it doesn't. The radio plays from the speakers in the kitchen as if it was left on – Spotify Christmas playlist, Peter's sure. As someone without a premium account, he's heard bits of these songs way too many times in the last few months.

He's in the middle of taking off his shoes when Adrian says, "Cook something for dinner, would you?" And with that, he leaves to the kitchen, taking out a bottle of orange juice from the fridge – great choice to compliment the aspirin that waits on the counter. He places the bottle against his head for a while before he pours himself a glass.

"I already ate..." Peter murmurs but moves to search for something in the fridge he could put together. He doesn't mean to be rude or disrespectful. He just informs Adrian he won't be joining for the-

"Pardon, what?" The fridge door slams closed so fast Peter almost leaves his head in it and looks at Adrian who stands next to him. His hand on the refrigerator door.

"N-nothing, I'll make something, no pro-problem," Peter says it with the sweetest, most innocent voice he can muster while being completely on the edge and after Adrian looks him over carefully, he finally moves away.

Peter finds some ground beef and taco wraps. After he discovers they still have some cans with brown beans and corn, he's pretty much ready to start and gives a small glance to Adrian. He sits on the bar stool, supporting his head with a hand – exhausted, Peter realizes. Perhaps that's the reason why things haven't get as _intense_ as Peter anticipated.

His father nods slightly, approving of Peter's choice for dinner and he takes out a big pan, sprinkling it with some olive oil and finally... Finally, he feels at least a bit calmer. He can't wait to just be done with this and find his phone. What if Tony's already waiting for his texts?

 _"Have a holly jolly Christmas, it's the best time of the year..."_ The words fill the room. Peter would sing along with the stereo if he didn't feel Adrian's eyes on him. That's okay. Music is better than the silence.

"Didn't know you were such a big buddy with Stark," Adrian says curiously and Peter's eyes widen. Thank god he's turned away from his father. But he doesn't know what to say to that.

"You ran straight to him. Was surprised he even let you... You know, Benny," – oh, there we go again, Peter thinks with a bittersweet smirk – "I would keep my distance. He ain't as nice as you might think."

Is this supposed to be some sort of dad talk attempt? Is this supposed to make Peter doubt the only good thing that has ever happened in his life?

_"Oh by golly have a jolly Christmas this year..."_

The beef on the pan hisses aggressively. Peter almost can’t hear the song through it.

"He's a very kind person," Peter replies, feeling the urge to defend... He doesn't expect Adrian to burst into laughter and it startles him. He shoots his father a perplexed look. The man seems to be amused beyond imagination. It makes Peter too uncomfortable so he turns his attention back to the beef and starts preparing the wraps.

"Oh, is he?"

Peter hears the bar stool screech briefly and although he can't hear Adrian's steps through the song and the cooking meat, he _knows_ Adrian's coming closer.

"You think you know him better than someone who’s worked for him for years?" Adrian's smirk is in Peter's peripheral vision and he does his best to ignore it.

"Maybe he just repays _kindness_ with kindness." Peter sounds more stubborn than he intended and Adrian leans against the counter next to him. Peter refuses to meet his eyes.

"Getting mouthy, huh? Trust me, Benny. Stark?" Adrian shakes his head, "You don't wanna fuck with that guy."

Before Peter can think of a suitable reply, before he can even think if he should believe it, Adrian grins and barks out laughter. "But-but maybe you WANNA _fuck_ with him, is that it?"

Peter feels his heart speeding up like he's been caught doing something bad. He tries his best to act casual but he can't shake the feeling like maybe Adrian knows. Maybe he's not just mocking, maybe this is more than just attempt to hurt- 

No.

No, Peter knows better. Peter SHOULD know better by now. This is nothing _BUT_ an attempt to hurt him because he hurt Adrian yesterday. Whatever he has to say about Tony or him is only his way to fix his broken ego. It makes Peter smirk and Adrian's grin melts away as it grows.

"The fuck are you laughing about, brat?"

 _You._ – Peter thinks and his smile widens while he remains silent.

"Oh yeah. Just keep laughing, little bitch. You pull off that shit yesterday and then you come home to laugh right in my face? After everything I've done for you and you still-"

"I didn't ask you to adopt me."

It's the last coherent sentence Peter says. The last coherent thought he has. Because the slap across his face temporarily disables his brain. Peter's head tilts to the side from the sheer force of the impact and his eyes stay wide on the floor. Everything slows down. It takes him a moment to register the stinging sensation under his skin but the physical pain isn't as intense as the emotional shock.

It's like Peter can't comprehend what actually happened. He knows he's got slapped with the full force of Adrian's strength but it doesn't make sense... It just doesn't...

" _Oh by golly, have a holly jolly Christmas this year..._ "

Peter doesn't realize he’s crying until he sees the tears drop onto the floor and blinks. He hears the low, threatening _"Get the fuck out of my sight before I kill you"_ and his burning face twists in a grimace of pain. He holds the sobs as long as he possibly can, going entirely on his instincts and muscle memory since he can't see anything through the water in his eyes and runs upstairs, slamming the door closed. 

He grabs anything he can to put against it. His chair, his books... He drags his entire bed just to block the way in case Adrian decides to discipline him again. Finally, he touches the burning side of his face, trying to soothe it, trying to calm down but it's not enough. There's much more wounded than just Peter's cheek, something deeper inside that can't heal as easily as a swollen face. And he's used to suffering, he should just swallow it and just _keep going_ – pain is familiar, okay – but for the first time in his life, he has someone to turn to. 

For the first time, there's someone who cares enough and Peter hiccups through his tears as he grabs his laptop frantically because he doesn't want to be strong anymore, he doesn't want to repress it, he wants someone else to kiss it better and take away that burden...

Peter opens the messenger as fast as the internet speed allows him and clicks on Tony's name – so many times it only takes longer to get to the chat since it keeps reloading over and over again. He forces himself to just stop and wait, wiping off his tears the best he can but the second he starts to type, it's like the dam has been broken and it all pours out into every letter Peter presses on the keyboard.

He will regret this tomorrow, he will regret this right after he calms down but this second... He feels like he won't survive unless he lets it all out. _Sincerely_.

 **Peter Parker (06:44 PM)**  
hi Tony 

just wanted to say 

i really really really miss you, i miss you so much already and i wanna be with you again. the way you made me feel today...

i want it, i want you and you probably figured out ur my first but i dont want anyone else cause i know only you can make me feel this way. i feel so safe with you and i love when you touch me and when you say my name. please daddy, i wanna go back

Peter sends it without thinking and the regret arrives much, MUCH sooner than he expected. It hits him instantly, with the force of a freight car as he re-reads the mortifying message and wishes there was a way to take it back. It's too unfiltered. Just raw emotions poured into words that could never encapsulate what he _really_ feels, that can never explain why he needs Tony's attention so much. But the part he regrets the most is – obviously – the "daddy" part.

 **Peter Parker (06:47 PM)**  
I'm sorry for what I said

Nvm. I just got all emotional I think 😅😅😅 so jkjk xD

Just joking I mean 😄😄😄 

Peter doesn't laugh. His bottom lip wobbles uncontrollably when he sends emojis and he feels another wave of sorrow squeeze his insides but then... One little, tiny word in the corner of the chat window turns his blood into ice. 

✓ _Seen_

If he thought he couldn't feel more gutted, he's proven wrong the second there is a texting sound, indicating Tony's replying. Peter literally smashes his laptop closed to start with breathing exercises. But he wants to know. God, he _NEEDS_ to know. Slowly, Peter opens his laptop again and presses enter to get back and... shuts his eyes closed instead. As if it was going to hurt less if he just cracked one eye open, keeping his vision blurry and slowly trying to make sense out of the smudges on the screen to evaluate if his fragile mind is ready for whatever Tony sent to him. He really can't stand it anymore so he takes a deep breath and forces his eyes open wide. To do this quick. No torture. Like when removing a band-aid. He runs over the words briefly and his heart hammers in his chest. When Peter re-reads the text again... And again and again, he's crying.

But this time for entirely different reasons.

 **Mr. Stark (06:51 PM)**  
I can't wait to hold you again, baby boy. Don't you worry. I'm going to take care of everything.

**06:52 PM**   
_– Mr. Stark has changed his nickname to Daddy –  
– Daddy has changed your nickname to Baby Angel –_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! That would be it for today ^^ Aaaand we've reached that point where I don't have anything pre-written _SO_ next chapter might or might not take longer than one week to post. I'll still be posting on Tuesdays (just not sure which one ahaha _*cries*_ ). Although I'd like to assure you all that this story WILL BE finished. Life is happening, my art is taking most of my time now but no need to panic, this story will continue ^^ ♥
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I see you all hopefully really soon ^^ Lots of love!!!  
> Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked, your support is always the best boost! ♥♥♥
> 
> (Just to throw it there, you can say hi on my [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/blush.incarnate/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlushIncarnate) OR [Tumblr](https://blush-reincarnated.tumblr.com/) hellsite for updates)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*checks the last time this was updated, performs a deep inhale*_
> 
> Huns. I'm not gonna pretend I don't feel guilty for how long you had to wait. And I have an excuse – shitton of workload – but(t) I am still sorry. I found a free moment and finished this chapter, I really wanted to get the next one out _BEFORE_ I see the Endgame cause no-fucking-doubt it's gonna give me some deep FEELS™. (Hopefully will also kick me into writing more often) again.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DID NOT ABANDON THIS SHIP **OR** THIS STORY. This story will be finished. Just seems it's gonna take longer than I expected...
> 
> Enough of that! I hope you enjoy this chapter ♥
> 
> PS: No beta this time.  
> PPS: Mind the tags, guys, it's getting hot (and dark?)

It's so easy to forget who he is. As if his brain is a machine that can't access the memory data. All the noise of Adrian's insults and punches, the stupid Christmas songs and everything that feeds Peter's doubts and fears is simply devoured by the entirely different noise. The city below and cars on the street, so far from the rooftop of Stark Tower they sound like softly whispered murmurs.

Like a song.

It's December night, even the snowflakes tickle Peter's cheek now and then but the black tiles he's standing on are warm against his bare feet. He leans against the railing, the softest bathrobe closed around his body, keeping him equally warm. Peter looks down at all the lights, so much more intense after Tony turns off the lights inside the penthouse. All they have is the world below their feet and the faint dancing stripes of red from the swimming pool lights.

Peter didn't expect tonight to go this way. Looking Tony in the eyes after yesterday was supposed to be awkward. Embarrassing. Downright mortifying... It's not what it was.

Because the second he lay his eyes on Tony, it was like a flick of a switch and those fears perished in the corners of Tony's perfect lips tugging up and the warm murmur of word _"baby"_ that escaped from them. No there was no shame or embarrassment. Maybe doubts but even though Peter never considered himself worthy of someone's attention, he's been convinced otherwise with the first contact of Tony's lips on his own. Perhaps he's naive or too eager to be loved to jump head first into this so quickly but Peter simply cannot bring himself to care. Even when Tony suggested they go to the pool together – which meant wearing only swim shorts – Peter pushed the small anxiety aside. He wanted to _trust_ Tony, he wanted to let go of all of the worries and just... Forget them. Forget everything but Tony and the way this man makes him feel.

Peter has decided when the day began. He was hellbent that NOTHING – absolutely nothing – will ruin his very first date. Not Adrian's mocking looks when he walked out wearing the new clothes he got for this occasion, not the bruise Peter spent an hour trying to cover with make-up _OR_ the open tab on his phone about the age of consent in the state of New York and little notes he typed in a hurry to use as arguments if Tony felt like they had to wait. Because honestly, Peter is no kid. And he's not letting some stupid guideline tell him who can touch him. If he could take Adrian's beating for four years, he can take Tony's caresses just alright. He's going to be seventeen in seven months anyway. And of course, he has no idea how far Tony plans to take it tonight but Peter knows one thing for sure.

The closer Tony is, the more Peter forgets. The more Tony touches him, the faster Peter heals. He just wants to close his eyes and drown in that man and all the affection he's never even dreamed of could be given to him.

"Enjoying the view?" That velvety voice purrs from behind and an arm wraps around Peter, the solid mass of a warm body pressing against his back and Peter's eyelids flutter. He accepts the glass with a slice of lemon and a pink umbrella that has his lips stretching in a smile.

"Thank you... Yes, it's... Breathtaking."

"I know about a few things that can take your breath away better than New York skyline."

Peter's about to say something smart in return but the words die in his throat. He chokes on them through a small moan when Tony brushes his lips against his earlobe. When the tip of the wet muscle briefly flicks over the sensitive skin, Peter's ready to drop his drink.

"Love how red your cheeks get in the cold, sweetheart." Tony murmurs, another arm sliding around Peter as he simply hugs him from behind, the warm breath caressing the tip of Peter's ear. He shivers before he has to chuckle shakily. 

"That would make you an accomplice since you're partially responsible, sir."

Tony makes an appreciative hum in the back of his throat, lips stretching in a smile against the back of Peter's neck. The strong arms unfold and Peter turns around to watch the older man taking a few steps towards the swimming pool with red water – or is it just the lights? – and lets the bathrobe fall off his shoulders.

Peter would love to take in that sight, all the wonderful muscles and tight skin despite Tony's age, the firm ass covered only in tight swimming boxers that hug the older man's curves just right. Even though the light is dim, the reds graze on Tony's skin and that second Peter wishes to follow them with his tongue and taste. But then Tony's gone, his body disappearing beneath in a perfect arrow and when he emerges, the water reaches the level of his pectorals. Peter's appreciates his drink that much more since his throat becomes suddenly dry because wet Tony... is sure one hell of a sight.

"Feels kinda lonely here." Tony sighs with a pretended pout and Peter has to giggle and... It feels _good_. To just laugh. To be happy. To not worry and feel like all the stars above New York shine for him tonight.

_Surreal._

"Oh no, what should I do, Mr. Stark? I can call Pepper if you need." Peter walks closer giggling, especially after Tony gives him that look.

"Get your ass in here, baby boy."

The pet name itself is enough to make Peter shiver. The warm sensation settling in the pit of his stomach. It's gorgeous. He's not sure if it's supposed to affect him this way but he's not about to complain. When he settles his half-empty drink on the glass table nearby and walks back to the edge of the swimming pool, it's like he's about to enter a new dimension. He knows when he steps into the water, it will be like their own little ocean. No one and nothing else to disturb or hurt them. Both existing just for each other... Or so Peter likes to think. Therefore, there's little hesitation as Peter's long fingers unfold the knot tied around his waist, letting the robe open and reveal his front.

He's _VERY_ aware of the way Tony's eyes devour him. Seemingly black in the red dim light, Peter almost dares to think that perhaps... Tony's just as starving as he is. It's what gives him enough courage to let the robe fall down, lips parting as the December air hits his skin. And yet, he can swear he's not the only one who gasped. Only Tony's gasp resembles a growl more than anything and it lures Peter blindly to follow, simply placing his foot forward into the water and he sinks under. When he stands up and opens his eyes, Tony's arms are already wrapping around his hips and the water makes everything so much easier. The older man lifts Peter up and perhaps it's an instinct but Peter's long legs wrap around the narrow waist instantly, arms mirroring the movement around Tony's neck. He can feel the bigger palms on his ass as he's carried through the water, nose against the nose, forehead against forehead.

At this point, it's so different from what he's used to he forgets his name is Peter Parker altogether.

"I understand you prefer hearing it rather than reading it in texts?"

Before Peter can ask what Tony means, the beard scratches Peter's neck from his shoulder up to his ear, " _Baby boy_?"

Even if Peter actually wanted to answer – as if it wasn't obvious enough – Tony then rocks his hips forward and Peter's brain is ready to shut down the second he feels the erection through the thin fabric of his swim shorts. The intensity of the moan that rips through his throat when he imagines what those hips could do to him shocks even Peter himself.

"Oh, yes darling, you _do_."

Tony's smirk is audible, stealing the last coherent thoughts from Peter with his lips and forcing his mouth open. The older man's in charge again, just like yesterday, Peter lets him lick into his mouth, eyes rolling back behind his eyelids. Of course, Peter's been already turned on but no masturbation could possibly prepare him for what just one kiss from Tony Stark does to his body. If the water around them turns into lava, he'll bare the fault.

"Say it back, baby..." Tony murmurs between kisses, his thumbs brushing Peter's cheeks and... Yeah, Peter jerks a little at the pain. He swears the side of his face where Adrian hit him is even rawer than yesterday but fortunately, Tony seems too busy to notice the little movement.

"Call me what you called me yesterday..." Tony kisses him again, Peter feeling his cheeks heating up and no pain can possibly overpower the strong jolts of electricity running through every nerve of his body. He feels something, something more primal wanting to take over and lets his hips move against Tony, the word this man wants to hear already on Peter's ravished tongue-

"What the hell is this?!"

Peter's eyes flutter open, his mind incredibly dizzy but when he does register the half-worried, half-furious look in Tony's eyes, his legs unfold to stand on the pool floor and sober him up in a matter of seconds.

"W-what? Did I do something wrong?"

Peter's not proud of how high his voice comes out but this gives him serious issues with believing anything nice can last. He's been dragged out of that lovesick high so violently it makes him almost sick, heart beating wildly in his chest but it only gets worse when he realizes what Tony's looking at.

"This," A beat, "What is _this_?" Tony repeats slow and clear with barely contained anger.

_SHIT!_

Peter's hand flies up to his left cheek quickly, trying to cover it. The water had to wash off his make-up and he tried so fucking hard to cover that bruise up. And for what? To get the moment of his life ruined.

"It's-it's, uh... Nothing. I... stumbled over and--"

Peter's voice dies in his throat when he meets Tony's eyes. He's seen that look before. Although he's never been on the receiving end. Nor wished to be but here they are. Tony looks like this at Natasha when she has bad news. He looks like this at Clint when he messes something up. At business partners that are too annoying for him to tolerate.

It's the _I'm-done-with-your-bullshit_ look and Peter does his best to ignore the prickling in his eyes.

"Peter," Tony's voice comes out thick and firm, wrapping imaginary chains around Peter to keep him right there, shackled to the spot. "You tell me who hurt you _right now_. No excuses." It's like a command and Peter feels his bottom lip wobble, he has to look down.

"No-no one... I..."

"Who did this to my baby?" This time it's softer, just a notch but it's enough. The older man steps closer, wrapping one arm around Peter's waist. The hand settling on his right cheek forces him to look up.

"I-I..." Peter panics. Because when he meets those eyes, those genuinely worried, furious and loving eyes, he can't even humor the idea of refusing to answer. But... He can't say it was Adrian. He just can't. He owes him too much and even though it's horrible to live with him, it could be worse if they shoved Peter in foster care-

"Tell Daddy..." Tony pets his wet hair. "You can trust me, just say the name."

_It could be so much worse than Adrian. It could be so so much worse, so much worse..._

"F-Flash... Thompson..."

Peter can't possibly meet Tony's eyes when he says that but he doesn't want to see his own reflection either so he closes them. He's not proud of this. Not at all. But it's the only thing that came to his mind, spoken before he could actually think it through. But judging by Tony's silence, at least it worked.

The warm lips press against Peter's forehead and he shivers, all the adrenaline washes away slowly with each of the small wave created on the surface around them.

"You have to tell me when things like this happen. NO ONE can hurt you, Peter. Do you understand?" Tony's voice is urgent but the affection seeps through every syllable and eventually forces Peter to open his eyes. Look in the face of the only man who ever cared. Except for uncle Ben... But he can't protect Peter anymore. 

"I won't allow it."

The determination in it is stronger than Peter would dare to imagine and he can see Tony has more to say but Peter just... can't. He doesn't want to talk about it or think about it. He forgot entirely it ever even happened and he needs that sensation back. Get high on Tony's mouth and skin and never come back.

"Please, let's just..." He looks up, biting his bottom lip and feels his heart skip anxiously with the next words. "Daddy... Daddy, can we go inside?"

Perhaps he just found the one weakness of Tony Stark but he can't deny the way his face shifts and his gaze darkens with something entirely different than rage is absolutely intoxicating. Like an instant drug, Peter takes it. He lets himself be eager and initiate the next kiss and doesn't let go until they're both hard again and Tony needs to push him away to get them both inside. Their return to the penthouse is more than clumsy. What takes usually hardly sixty seconds of a walk from the pool inside the living room now feels like an eternity. But they can't possibly let go of each other. They can't stop kissing. The idea of parting even an inch away terrifies Peter too much to grant Tony a break for breathing and just keeps tasting him ravenously like he cannot possibly get enough.

Between the groans and hums and the noise they make each time they bump into some part of the furniture, all that matters is how close Tony's breath is. How tightly his hands rest on Peter's body and how possessively they _grope_. When they fall onto the large sofa in each other's arms, they both gasp for air.

"My touch-starved baby..." Tony murmurs in a low voice, hand running down Peter's chest to his swimming shorts, open-palmed and _burning_. 

Peter doesn't know how high the expectations are, what _EXACTLY_ is actually expected of him but he doesn't have to worry about it. He doesn't have to _think_. His back arches, his body following the touch and vocalizing how much he loves it in a lament filled with hunger. And Tony seems more than pleased with the response, he does it again and devours everything Peter gives. Oh no, he definitely doesn't need to worry about this. Tony plays him like an instrument, hitting each string expertly to create a symphony to his own liking. Peter becomes entirely lost in the song they create as Tony's low groans mix with his needy, intoxicated moans and Peter's body _dances_ for him.

"No one can hurt you." 

It's a growl that comes out of nowhere, catches Peter off guard as he snaps his eyes open but shuts them closed just as fast. The growl isn't the only unexpected action. Tony's hand fearlessly covers Peter's crotch, clothed but the touch is effective nonetheless. Whatever was on Peter's mind, he doesn't remember, it's turning blank under the intensity of the dark eyes and even darker voice, emphasized by the motion's of the warm hand.

"Anyone who does will regret... They'll regret," He squeezes Peter's impossibly hard cock and Peter cries out, the words losing their meaning and turning into just faint sounds he perceives on a primal level. "They hurt you and I hurt them back, I make them so very sorry, baby boy... So fucking sorry..." 

The palming never stops, it intensifies and the second Tony slips his hand under, wrapping his fingers against the erected flesh, Peter bucks his hips up, rounding them into Tony's generous hand. His words make only half of the sense, echoing in Peter's ears more like a lyrics to the crescendo of their moans and pants. Each movement is more frantic and desperate, each growl sounds deeper and the closer Peter gets to his climax, the more wicked things Tony promises to those who would dare to lie as much as a finger on him. 

There's no place for the question what the hell is wrong with Peter. There is _nothing_ wrong at the moment. The watery brown eyes meet the dark, hungry glance of a beast and Peter's breath stutter.

"Daddy will _kill them_ for you, baby."

Peter cums with the intensity that's blinding. It kicks the air out of his lungs, the sheer force of his orgasm devastating his body in earthquakes. All higher functions are offline, he simply registers only the touch, the bliss and the sickening satisfaction of the idea that for _once_ , it would have consequences if someone decided to wrong him. He doesn't intend to question his own morals for what a kick he got from the idea. It still echoes in the afterglow and it's too beautiful, feels too blissful to _think_ about it too hard. Besides, Tony didn't really mean it.

It feels like forever before Peter returns from his high but Tony seems very patient. He holds him through it as if that orgasm was his own, as if he wanted nothing else but for Peter to feel good and enjoyed every single second of it. Soft touches, the warm embrace of Tony's arms and the thud of his beating heart against Peter's ear is all he knows for now. He didn't even notice when the older man pulled him up to rest against Tony's chest in his lap but Peter doesn't want to move. Ever.

"I love you..." He murmurs against Tony's shoulder and fuck how early it is. Fuck how incoherent Peter is. He just wants to say it. And when Tony said he's gonna get spoiled yesterday, he must have meant it because the older man gives exactly what Peter hoped for in return.

"Daddy loves you too, baby..." His fingers brush Peter's hair soothingly but his voice is a bit unfocused like he's thinking about something, his mind somewhere else. Peter's too ecstatic from the affectionate declaration to worry about it.

***

Peter thinks Tony would take it all the way if he could yesterday. He believes, the older man doesn't care about the age of consent after all... Or maybe he forgot how old Peter is... Either way, Peter believes if he didn't fall asleep in his lap like a stupid toddler, that night could have been even more exciting.

But that's okay, he'll see Tony again soon enough. 

Daddy (4:22 PM)  
Enjoying the time with your friends, baby boy?

Peter does his best to hide the stupid grin that wants to bloom on his face. Michelle will notice and question him again if he doesn't stop... At least she didn't try to snatch his phone from him... _yet_. Peter's mindful of her position on Ned's couch and checks on her every now and then. Both MJ and Ned know the password to his phone... Perhaps he should change it.

Baby Boy (4:23 PM)  
Very much :3  
Wish I was with Daddy tho  
Wanna kiss you real hard :>

"Seriously, whatever's the stuff you're taking, gimme." MJ gives him an unimpressed look.

"You couldn't handle it, it's called positivity."

MJ pretends to be offended and Peter giggles, taking the time to check his phone for the answer but Ned storms into the room. He went to the kitchen to get some snacks for them but all he's holding is his phone. Peter frowns and checks the screen, seeing their class' group chat.

"Guys, look!" Ned's voice really sounds worried and MJ frowns too, putting aside the PS4 controller to take the phone from Ned's hand. Peter sets his aside to scoop closer to Michelle and reads over her shoulder. It takes a moment for his eyes to run over the messages but when the meaning of the words finally makes sense, Peter feels his throat becoming impossibly tight.

Flash's in the hospital.

He's been hit by a car. And whoever did it drove away without calling an ambulance. He's lucky he's alive and something cold shifts in Peter's stomach, making him sick.

He can't shake the feeling that this is his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*silently sneaks out*_
> 
> So, there we go. Hope you enjoyed ♥
> 
> Since I don't want you to painfully wait for the next update, I'm gonna say it, this story is going on hiatus (officially). It doesn't mean I'm gonna stop writing it – as I said, it will be finished – but(t) I really can't tell when the next update is going to be and don't want you to just wait every week just to be disappointed. (I'm not happy to disappoint in this case) Ha, what a pun.
> 
> Hope you all have a wonderful time until then, be strong through the Endgame and thank you for all the support and love ♥ Right back at you, huns ♥♥♥


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus is over (it seems), my darlings. I'm beyond sorry for the wait, I did NOT realize it's been FOUR months goddammit (//ω//)  
> Quick updates: Endgame – what the shit was that stucky ending, FFH – I so loved it, don't take Petey from MCU please.
> 
> *claps her hands* Now! **Fair warning:** Cause I don't want to crush someone's hopes, I'm saying this now. This is NOT the story where Peter turns "villain" into a good guy by his purity and good heart. It's the other way around. So if that's not your jam, you should probably abandon the ship and spare yourself some suffering. (please check the new tags that's been added)
> 
> The rest of you, let's dive right in! Wohoo!

Peter dislikes hospitals very much. He hates the smell of everything sterile and white walls, the voice from the speaker calling out names now and then. It's oddly stressful just to be in such an environment. It's hard to breathe and even more difficult to explain...

That's when Ned and MJ finally drop it and with a somewhat understanding nod, enter the hospital room. They don't force him to come in anymore and Peter's left in the hallway to watch through the door window every time he's sure Flash's not looking. And it's most of the time – after all – he's hurt and soaking up the attention of Peter's friends like a dry sponge.

For the first time, Peter can't hold it against him. Can't produce even the tiniest thought that'd hold any malice against Flash because Flash Thompson's bones are broken.

MJ holds a glass for him and guides the straw between his lips so he can drink. The expression he gives her once he's done slurping is one Peter's never seen on Flash's face before.

 _Gratitude_.

A genuine _thank you_ and a soft smile he gives Ned after – like he's glad they're there. The _only_ people from their class that has come to visit and didn't just send a card or flowers. It's sincere gratitude for not being left alone and it makes Peter feel exponentially worse.

The room seems smaller with all the flowers around, cards with get-well wishes. Despite the voices being muffled through the door, Peter can make sense of the gestures MJ makes, cracking some joke about Flash's IV and all three of them chuckle.

_He must be in so much pain..._

Peter's eyes begin to sting when the phone vibrates in his pocket and he blinks the tears away, shifting aside so he can lean against the wall and check the message.

Twelve missed calls, twenty-three – the phone vibrates again – twenty- _four_ messages from Tony. One missed call from Adrian.

Peter feels his sugar level drop below the floor and his heart follows.

The preview of the text says: _'What are you doing at the hospi...'_.

Before any emotion can actually form inside him, Peter's head snaps up, immediately scanning the surroundings. He expects to see Tony watching him somewhere from the corner but finds nobody. No one even distantly radiating a resemblance of that energy always surrounding Tony Stark. A shadow of silver hair hidden under a hat enters his field of vision for a brief moment but before Peter can't focus on it, the man is gone.

He thinks he's seen him somewhere before but-

"Peter! Peter, gosh, you weren't kidding when you said you hate this place."

He shoves his phone in the pocket, turns it off. Michelle's staring. As if all the color has drained from Peter's face – which it probably did. The sound he makes in the back of his throat could be either affirmation or refutation but MJ seems to go with the first one because she rubs his arm encouragingly.

"We should be leaving anyway. Come, just say hi and we can go," MJ nods towards the room, already half-way there while Peter's feet turn into led. 

He can't face what he's-

"Seriously, Peter. Come on," MJ urges him in a whisper and Peter throws in excuse after excuse but then she's done with his bullshit and drags him in and the voice in his throat dies.

"We'll come later!" Ned nods to Flash just before he notices the new person in the room.

Peter can't hear what MJ says next over the noise of his thoughts. Because this is his fault. All the broken bones, IV, Flash's red eyes after too much crying and when he notices the card ' _Get well! -mom_ ' that isn't even signed, he wants to switch places with Flash.

But maybe it's not on him. Maybe it's just a coincidence – is what he needs to tell himself to even keep standing. What he needs to tell himself is that nothing Tony said yesterday night was true, he didn't mean it, he'd never...

_Yes, he would._

"H-hey, um..." Peter makes a weak gesture that was supposed to be a wave but the way Flash looks at him shreds any disillusion Peter tried to build around himself to feel better into pieces.

He can't possibly lie to himself any longer, not with the panic in Flash's eyes – so palpable even MJ and Ned fall silent in confusion. Flash looks at Peter and all of sudden, it's like Peter's stepping on the gas while Flash's crossing the road. 

Like Peter's holding a baseball bat, ready to finish him.

 _YOU broke him_ , Peter's mind screams accusations while Flash's searching for his voice, stuttering syllables, and Peter feels like he's looking at himself – only three months ago.

"Get out!" 

Flash barks with a trembling voice like he's afraid to even talk to Peter. 

Peter knows what's going on instantly, he can't possibly ignore the truth any longer.

"Flash... That's... Peter?" Ned says, perplexed while MJ tenses on the other side.

"Get out! GET OUT!"

Peter does. 

And while he's running to get away from everyone, all he can think of is how did they _phrase_ it. Did they say something like _Next time you even think of Peter Parker, it's gonna be your funeral_? Or _Don't even look at Parker or next time – there won't be next time_? Did they just drop Peter's name and let Flash figure out the rest?

Flash has never done anything to him except mocking him and insulting. He could be a goddamn annoyance and sometimes he was the last straw that stood between Peter and a breakdown – especially on days when he already heard an earful from Adrian. But he _never_ – ever – touched Peter.

Flash has never hit him, never even shoved him, never even _implied_ that he'd want to. Yet Peter has thrown him to the wolves without even considering the magnitude of his impulsive decision. Without even thinking this was the possible outcome and let's face it – it doesn't make the weight of guilt on his shoulders any lighter.

Was it Tony himself who did it? Or he did he send someone? Peter thinks he sent someone... Adrian? Is _this_ what Peter's adoptive father really does for Tony? Is hurting someone his field of work?

He sure as hell is qualified for it, Peter can confirm that much.

***

The elevator door opens and both of them speak at the same time.

"Did you get Flash Thompson in the hospital?!"

"Why don't you answer your phone?!"

Peter stops abruptly in the middle of his beeline to the living room.

Tony – is – angry? _TONY_ is angry? Oh no-no-no-no, it's _Peter's_ turn to be angry. Or so he believed... Tony doesn't show any intentions of backing off or reconsidering the situation. His eyes are dark and despite how much Peter wants to just yell at him to calm down, his body shivers as the older man enters his space.

"Do you know how worried I was?"

 _Did YOU had Flash get hit by a car?_ Peter thinks.

 _Did YOU tell someone to follow me?_ Peter wants to ask.

He says none of it. 

Because there is sincere relief replacing the concern in Tony's dark eyes and every sharp edge of his face softens when he touches Peter's cheek. And Peter _melts_ into it, pressing his face against Tony's warm palm like a cat seeking attention and closes his eyes.

_No one's blaming him. No one's yelling at him._

He knows how wrong it is that Tony didn't answer his question and how it doesn't matter because Peter already knows the answer. He knows... But even Peter's self-conscience shuts up as the heat radiating from Tony's presence embraces him. At that moment, Peter realizes it doesn't matter if it's just a stressful day in school, Adrian beating the shit out of him or being indirectly responsible for an innocent person lying on a hospital bed – Tony _always_ makes it go away.

Peter's eyes flutter open. Tony's watching his lips but meets his eyes a second later.

"Did you tell someone to follow me?" He asks instead but this time it's quiet and calm and to Peter's surprise – it lacks any offense.

Tony nods.

"Christmas night? Or _this_?" Tony brushes a finger over Peter's yellowing bruise and shakes his head, "I don't want to see anything like that ever again, baby boy. Anyone touches you – they'll regret walking the surface of Earth."

The last part comes out almost like a growl and Peter's weak body gives in, practically falling against Tony who's quick to scoop him in his arms and lift him up. Peter wraps his legs and arms around him, ruining the collar of Tony's thousand-dollar dress shirt with tears.

He should be angry. He should tell Tony what he's done is unacceptable and whatever he does, he should – _not_ – like it. And he doesn't but then again... Deep down... He _does_. 

Adrian's always been a violent abusive dickhead that keeps breaking the law daily (no, not working for Tony, the time he spends home with Peter is totally enough to send him to jail). Peter's never expected to be on the other side of the spectrum. To be _protected_ by violence, not to be on the receiving end. And just the magnitude of _how much_ Tony cares, it finally hits him like a freight car.

Tony did it _for him_.

It's _Peter_ who hurt Flash. He lied, this is his fault. All Tony wanted to do was to protect him, he's not the one to blame. Sure Tony's moral compass seems to be an entirely different brand but his intentions are good.

No indirect responsibility.

_This is on Peter._

He doesn't stop shaking until there are three blankets tucked around them, Tony's lips leaving small wet kisses over Peter's neck and murmuring soothing words. He realizes his grip might be too demanding around Tony's neck but the older man doesn't say anything. Peter relaxes, cheek raising on Tony's chest with each inhale and lets his arms go slack.

"'m sorry..." He murmurs.

Something painful tugs on his heart when he realizes he's not saying it for Tony. It's an apology meant for everyone because he's sorry for lying. Sorry for hurting a person. Sorry to be a coward who covers such an asshole like Adrian.

He's sorry for being too much of a pussy to tell the truth.

Trimmed beard brushes against his forehead and Tony's lips press a kiss to Peter's temple.

"I'm sorry for... not answering the phone."

_Coward. Such a fucking coward._

Peter shifts and sits up in Tony's lap, his warm hands resting on Peter's hips as he waits patiently for Peter to finish.

"I was... Dunno, just really," Peter shrugs, "Stressed? I didn't mean to make you worry. I won't do it again." 

Tony's lips stretch in something like a proud smile.

"Good boy."

Peter's breath catches and Tony had to notice because something shifts in his eyes. Something curious and it makes them darker.

"Such a perfect boy," He continues and every syllable runs through Peter's body, electrifying and intoxicating.

Tony begins to rub up and down Peter's thigh, thumb and index finger squeezing his hip ever-so-slightly each time.

"What did I do to deserve such an angel, Peter?" The vibrating bass of Tony's voice does _something_ to Peter's body and he presses against him, grinding their crotches together without thinking.

"I-I'm not... I-"

"Shhh... Let Daddy take care of it."

Tony's fingers comb into Peter's curls, tugging on them gently, just enough to deprive him of all coherent thoughts. 

Tony should know, he _has to_ know Peter's no angel, he doesn't deserve any of this but it's hard to argue with daddy when the gorgeous buzzing runs through his body. World noise fades, thoughts shatter before they can even try to hurt Peter.

Tony tilts Peter's head to kiss him. Not as ravenously as yesterday but slow and thorough. He's taking his time and Peter's _wet_ for him already, nearly cumming when Tony's hand runs down his back and grabs a handful of Peter's ass.

"I-I'm close-" Peter whimpers, blindly following what's given to him, hips frantically humping Tony's side but then it's all gone.

Peter blinks a few times, panting through parted lips as he looks around. He's been removed from Tony's lap, Tony himself standing up from the couch. He shoots Peter a smirk that holds all the promises before Peter can panic and offers his hand to help him follow.

"Text Adrian you'll be staying at your friend's tonight." 

Peter's lightheaded when Tony says it. His hand is lifted so Tony can kiss the back of it and Peter wants to faint and laugh at the same time – because who the hell does _that_ nowadays? Peter's eyes follow the curve of Daddy's ass until he disappears behind the bedroom door. 

Peter grabs the phone and sends the fastest text of his life.

He doesn't bother to wait for Adrian to text back or call. Peter's so thoughtful he even turns off his phone and leaves it in the living room. The bedroom door is slightly open so Peter peeks in first. Tony stands by the wardrobe in the dimly lit room, taking off his tie – a few buttons already undone. The sight alone is inviting enough to have Peter hurry inside.

"Shoes off. On the bed, _angel_." Tony emphasizes the last word by removing his tie completely in a sharp, swift motion that makes Peter's knees go weak. He's been imagining Tony like this ever since that job interview months ago but to _experience_ it puts those fantasies to shame.

Peter quickly toes off his shoes and abides, climbing on the king-sized bed. The sheets are steel blue and soft to touch so he lets his fingers brush against them absently as he kneels and waits.

Tony rolls up his sleeves and looks at him, the corner of his mouth tugging up smugly. Peter feels like he should cast his eyes down shyly like he normally would but he _returns_ it. Tony's silent anticipation reflecting in Peter's excited grin.

"That's what I like to see." The man hums and finally joins him.

Tony places one knee on the bed but doesn't go further. Their eyes are locked when he raises his hand to trace Peter's jaw with his fingers. From the chin to his ear, then back over the bruise on his cheek to his lips. He lets his thumb linger over them and they part to take it in.

"Good boy."

Tony's voice is heavier. Like the last time, they were intimate. Encouraged, he lets his tongue flicker over the calloused skin.

Something shifts in Tony's face, eyes growing darker and there's something raw in the way he parts his own lips. It's when he slowly pushes that thumb in and out, slowly fucking Peter's lips with it. Peter's eyelids flutter and he hums a moan around the finger, sucking instinctively – just like he would do with Tony's cock.

He makes sure to let Tony know too. Looks down at the bulge in the older man's slacks, moving his head ever-so-slightly to meet thrusts of Tony's hand. When he looks up again, the thumb is removed from his mouth, the string of saliva connecting it with Peter's lips for a second.

He wants to protest but he's too busy moaning when Tony brings the wet digit to his mouth and shamelessly sucks Peter's saliva off. Licks it clean. He too never looks away and when he does, his eyes dart to Peter's crotch. Peter can't control his hips and whimpers, grinding them into the air.

"Daddyyyy-!" It sounds too needy, even to Peter's ears.

"Patience, baby. I need you to understand something first."

Tony tells him vaguely and joins him on the bed. 

That doesn't sound hot... Peter's not sure what kind of lecture he's about to receive and he doesn't understand _why_ it needs to be now. He braces himself for anything, hoping Tony'd be as gentle as always and moves when Tony nudges him slightly so he turns to the other side. Older man's body presses against him from behind, one hand sneaking around Peter's hip, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

"Off."

Peter's quick to obey, throwing the piece of fabric aside and when Tony taps his jeans too, Peter follows just as easily. He's naked when he returns to the position, letting Tony embrace him from behind and presses his ass against Tony's erection. He's rewarded with a deep hum and lips licking from his shoulder to his neck, then peppering that area with small kisses.

The room is lit by a new color and suddenly Peter sees their reflection on the other side. The entire wall is a mirror – he realizes – framed by a thin line of red light. He didn't realize it was there before...

Tony tosses small remote on the pillow and with both hands finally free, he scratches up Peter's thighs until he massages his V line with his fingers but ignores the cock dripping between Peter's legs.

"F-fuck..."

Arching his back and rocking his hips, he'll take anything. Tony's cock behind him or his hands in front. _Anything_.

The sound of Tony clicking his tongue makes his eyes open. He'd hate to do something wrong and-

"There. Keep looking, sweetheart."

To make his point, Tony rewards him by grinding his crotch against Peter's ass. Their eyes meet in the mirror. Tony's lips still graze on his shoulder.

"Na-ah, look at yourself, baby. Not me."

It's a simple request. But... It's easier said than done. Peter's not ashamed of his body but he's never admired himself in the mirror, let alone in a sensual way. This feels... _weird_. He does like to see how Tony's big hands cover his hips though.

"Do you see how beautiful you are, baby angel? How precious, how perfect..." Tony sucks on his neck and wraps his hand around Peter's length.

"I- A-ah! N-ngh...! I... I guess..."

The hand disappears and Peter squirms in frustration.

"Maybe you gotta look better, sweetheart."

" _Okayokayokay-_ I see. I see!" Peter lies but Tony's fingers slowly pumping his cock feels too good to let any guilt show in his face.

"No one can ruin this... No one can hurt you, Peter..." Tony kisses the back of Peter's neck, moving to the other shoulder. Peter begins to thrust slightly in Tony's hand and he lets him.

"If they do... They _deserve_ to be hurt back. There's nothing to feel guilty about..."

The low murmur vibrates against Peter's skin. He's not sure what to say to that, he's not sure if he can _think_ that Tony is wrong in any way right now, so he remains silent. He _knows_ what Tony's doing. 

He lets it happen.

"See, Petey?" Tony uses his other hand to tease the tip of Peter's cock, scooping some of his dripping pre-cum on his finger and brings it to Peter's lips.

"Taste yourself."

Tony uses his hand to tilt Peter's head to him, making him open his mouth with ease. Their tongues meet on Tony's finger, licking it clean while tasting each other. Peter's eyes roll into the back of his skull and he grips Tony's thigh, his thrusts growing more desperate.

"You have no idea, baby..." He licks into Peter's mouth, "How much you're worth... To me." 

Tony thrusts against Peter's ass and he _wails_.

"I want you to see it," Tony's voice is harsh with urgency but only thing Peter hears is fire. The older man reaches behind Peter and Peter realizes he's been unbuttoning his pants only when the hot erection presses against his cheeks.

"T-Tony!"

"They hit you – you hit them harder."

Tony wraps one arm around Peter's waist to keep him as close as possible so he can fuck between his cheeks while jerking Peter off.

"DADDY, I-I- P-please-"

"No one can hurt you... No one... Not even _you_ ," Tony bites lightly on Peter's left shoulder and Peter's brain remembers the old scars covering the skin a second later.

"T-t-that's- I-I'm not do-doing that anymore..." Peter gasps, letting his head fall against Tony's shoulder.

He's so fucking close.

"Good boy... Such a perfect angel... So good for me..."

Tony's breath is labored and Peter can feel his pre-cum between his cheeks, making the friction so much more pleasant.

"Daddy-"

"Cum for me, princess."

It hits Peter hard in the pit of his stomach. The euphoria blinds him as he spills all over Tony's hand. Distantly, he feels warm fluids dripping down his ass and Tony's cock twitching against him. Just knowing he made Daddy come too has him feeling like he could reach the climax for the second time right away.

Peter doesn't know how long he's been laying against Tony's chest but when he comes back to himself, they're both licking Peter's cum off the calloused fingers. They end up kissing – in that sloppy way that's all Peter's fault but Tony doesn't seem to mind.

 _Luscious_ – Tony calls him.

 _Perfect_ – He insists.

Peter doesn't remember being more sated in his life and when he closes his eyes, it's the thought of Adrian never hitting him again that puts a smile to his face.

If he does – he'll be hit back. Peter knows that now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, dearests. I'm back but I can't promise to update regularly. THO, I can promise it's not gonna take me another four months (￣▽￣*)ゞ
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments and encouraging words, it's what eventually pulls my head above the water ♥ ～('^人 ^) Love y'all 3000


End file.
